


Show Me How The Fire Works

by turnyourankle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dirty Dancing Fusion, Dancing, Dirty Dancing, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Summer Vacation, if you're looking for angst and conflict this is not the fic for you, let's just do both those tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-10-30 03:46:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 49,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10868412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnyourankle/pseuds/turnyourankle
Summary: The Styles-Twist holiday in the Catskills is supposed to be just that: a family holiday. A last hurrah before Harry relocates to the states for uni. Instead, it quickly devolves into a honeymoon for his parents, leaving Harry and Gemma to fend for themselves. Harry quickly befriends the staff at the resort, and is enticed by Louis, one of the dance instructors. Harry gets in over his head in an attempt to impress him, but with Gemma egging him on and a ticking clock, how could he not at least try?Or, the Dirty Dancing AU no one asked for.





	Show Me How The Fire Works

**Author's Note:**

> This Dirty Dancing AU that was one of my first fic ideas in fandom and has now taken me over a year to finish, so I'm pretty pleased it's done at last. Hopefully some of you will enjoy it and all that time and fretting will have been worth it. 
> 
> The title is from Shout Out Louds' [14th of July](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7wBnRAio3Lc).
> 
> This is not a carbon copy of Dirty Dancing--there's one borrowed line (I'm sure you'll all spot it) but mostly I did my best to make this work for these characters rather than recreate the exact story. 
> 
> I owe massive thanks to so many people for this. Huge thanks to Kati and Gabi for looking it over, and Aqua for really fine combing through it and talking about it with me. Also need to shoutout Sabrina and Nina who let me rant about this fic to them endlessly despite neither of them reading any of it. Thanks for letting me talk your ears off. 
> 
> The fic banner featured below was made by [generouslouis](http://generouslouis.tumblr.com) and I couldn't be happier with it.

_Take me to the fireworks,_  
_and show me how the fire works._

Harry’s face is sweating.

It’s 6 AM and they’ve only just left the Albany airport. Robin’s gone to pick up their rental and Gemma’s flip flops slap against the tarmac as they walk towards their designated pick up spot.

Harry is properly knackered, his bag swinging around him and bouncing off of his hips with each step. Gemma keeps shooting him death glares. If she wasn’t holding onto coffee and doughnuts for the lot of them she’d probably thwack him in the chest until he held on to his bag properly. As it is, the sound of it hitting his bum is the only thing keeping Harry awake.

It’s not that hot, but somehow he’s still sweating. He can feel it beading at his temple. It must be something to do with the shift in temperature; going from the mild English air, to air conditioned planes and then this, which, while not scorching is still decidedly warmer than it was back home. He’ll have to get used it, he thinks, pulling at the scarf loosely wrapped around his neck.

Gemma keeps blowing at the stray hairs that flutter in front of her face, frustration evident in the way she narrows her eyes.

“Bloody sodding shit,” she exclaims as her hair tie snaps and the rest of her hair slips free around her shoulders.

Anne doesn’t speak up despite the cussing, which means she must be even more tired than the two of them. Harry grabs the doughnut box and drink tray from her. He maneouvers the tray so that he can press his mouth to the lip of his cup. Just a slight tilt and he can take a sip...hopefully without spilling anything else.

Anne catches on to what he’s trying to do, and lifts his cup, handing it to him before taking the tray away, holding on to it securely. She doesn’t scold him, at least. Gemma tries to knot her hair onto itself before giving up.

“‘ve got a spare,” Harry says, and offers up his wrist where two hair ties are secured. She takes one with a sigh.

She divvies up the doughnuts while they wait for Robin to sign out the car, Harry biting into a powdery doughnut, his throat getting drier as he swallows it down. He only gulped down two mouthfuls of water from the fountain by baggage claim before Anne panicked that they only had five minutes before they lost their car reservation and had to mosey. Add his weird case of sweats on top of it all, and it’s not the most ideal situation.

He should have asked for a bottle of water rather than coffee. Or he should’ve gotten it iced, like Gemma.

“Did you know it’d be warmer than home?” Gemma asks, rolling her neck. She tips her head back, pulling at the collar of her shirt. Now that she’s not holding on to their goodies she’s got her hands wrapped reverently around her iced coffee.

Harry stares at it with envy. “D’you want to trade?” He asks, offering her his drink. It’s still scorching hot against his palms.

She purses her lips and shakes her head. Her cheeks hollow as she sucks her own coffee through her straw, smacking her lips as she pulls off. “Nah, ‘m good.” She tilts her head into the sunlight, eyes closed happily.

“Heartless,” he says with a sigh. “I don’t think it’s that bad. Probably just an adjustment from all that air conditioning.”

Gemma raises her eyebrows at him, skepticism plain on her face as she hums in response.

“Gets much worse in August I've heard,” Anne says, fanning herself with a dog-eared Cosmo. She wrinkles her nose, “And the city with all that litter just stewing on the sidewalk. At least here there's mountains here keeping things cool and breezy.”

Gemma laughs. “We get it mum, New York is bad. I’m sure Haz will reconsider his year abroad now that you’ve enlightened him of the dystopian conditions he’ll have to endure.”

Anne sighs. She rolls up her magazine and puts it in her bag. “I’m just saying.”

She’s been ‘just saying’ things for months, ever since Harry expressed interest in transferring overseas. She refused to watch programmes and films set in New York, unless they depicted the city in a poor light and then she’d tell Harry all about it. When she realized it wouldn’t change his mind, she guilted him into spending ever bank holiday with them because ‘it would be their last’.

Eventually she decided they would all accompany Harry to the States to help him settle in. And use up her and Robin’s wedding gift resort stay while they were at it. The wedding gift they’d been putting off until the timing was _just quite right._

One last family holiday, his mum had sold it as. And the perfect opportunity for them to help Harry settle in before classes started. “It’ll be convenient,” she said, clearly not accounting for the amount of baggage Harry would have to bring with him for the move.

It’s all from a good place, he knows.

“I know, mum.” He gives her a sideways hug, hand wrapping around her shoulders. She smiles tightly, lips rolled into her mouth.

“Well! Good thing we’ve got a few weeks for you to get acclimatized, I suppose.” It comes out strained, despite her light tone, and Harry just hugs her tighter.

A red car pulls up in front of them, the windows rolled down and Robin sat in the driver’s seat. Harry pulls away from Anne, taking the initiative to load up their baggage since most of it is his.

He drops his still full coffee cup into a bin before sliding into the backseat, not wanting to even try to finish it.

In reality none of them should be driving, but Robin seems to be the perkiest of them all. He did pass out half an hour into a film on the plane, clearly the right approach to remaining sane after a transatlantic flight.

Robin fiddles with the radio console. “Let’s get some local colour,” he says with a grin. The first song to come on is Robbie Williams, and Robin turns it up. “Classic.”

“Guess we’ll be right at home, then, won’t we?” Anne laughs. She flips the visor down, and turns to Harry and Gemma with a blinding smile. Harry can’t help but return it. It’s good. This holiday is a good thing. Nevermind the cumbersome logistics of it all.

There’s enough room in the back for Harry and Gemma to spread out and doze off comfortably, although he can’t seem to. Gemma’s got her neck pillow out again, and her head is tipped back against the headrest, mouth open.

The radio is on low enough that it’s a pleasant hum, so it’s not that keeping Harry awake. He’s still tightly wound, a slight stomach ache forming from the shitty airplane coffee. He closes his eyes, listening to Robin and his mum as she tries to read him the directions to the resort.

Robin’s family used to go there for hols, but it's been a couple decades. Still, he argues he knows the way and has stories for each landmark they pass. “Stopped to wee at this gas station once. Was a lot dingier back in the day.”

Anne hums at each comment, letting him have his nostalgia for a moment before correcting course.

Harry has no idea how long the drive takes, but it feels quick. The sound of their voices and Anne’s bubbly laugh keeping Harry anchored to consciousness as he drifts off, head against the window.

 

❋

James is waiting for them at the top of the driveway when they pull up. 

None of them have seen him since the wedding a couple years back, but he's easy to recognize; he looks about the same, just a bit more tan and blond. That and it seems highly unlikely that anyone else would possibly be up this early to welcome them. 

“Look at these early birds!” James greets them far too loudly as they clamber stiffly out of the car. He opens his arms, bringing Anne and Robin into an embrace, patting them both on their backs. “So lovely to see you both, my favourite Brits.”

“Oh, well, you know, last chance to have the family all together, the timing worked out great, really,” Anne says with a rehearsed laugh. 

“Mum,” Gemma’s tone is exasperated. She seems more fed up with the dramatics than he is. He would never say it, but part of him likes knowing that his mum really will miss him loads. And he knows she probably wouldn’t let him change his mind even if he tried. Despite all the tears and clingy hugs, she’s incredibly proud that he has this opportunity and is taking it. 

“Well, I’m glad you _finally_ decided to cash in your gift. And the more the merrier, obviously. So happy you made it,” James aims this last part at Gemma and Harry, his face practically bursting with joy. 

James moves to pull Harry and Gemma into a bear hug, his embrace strong and tight. “I hear you’ll be staying behind after this lot leaves,” James says to Harry.

“In the city, yeah.” Just saying it sends a flutter of excitement loose under his skin. Harry’s still not quite processed it. In a way, his mum was probably right that this would be a good way for him to ease into it.

A laughter bellows out of James, and he pats his chest. “The City, already speaking like a proper New York snob aren’t you? Well, I’ll always be a quick train ride away if you need anything.”

Harry’s pretty sure his mum’s eyes are watering again, as she ducks into Robin’s arms. James must notice as well, as he claps his hands together and announces, “Enough melancholy for now. This is a celebratory visit. I know this has turned into a family holiday but I’ve got plenty of romantic outings for you lovebirds if you want it.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” Anne says, and Robin squeezes her tighter, chest shaking with laughter.

“Yes, dear, he should’ve. It’s what he promised us.” James winks at Robin.

“I just don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s no bother, I promise. In fact, it’s our speciality.” He turns his attention back to Harry and Gemma, clapping his hands over their shoulders. “I’m sure you kids will have a blast on your own.” 

“Oh, they know how to entertain themselves, don’t worry about them,” Robin says at the same time as Gemma speaks, “I’m sure we’ll be fine as long as we don’t have to third-wheel.” 

James grins wide and sighs happily, his grin crumpling a bit at the corner with the emotion on his face. “I’m just so glad you all made it.” He brings Robin in for another long embrace. 

“Let’s get your bags taken care of, shall we?” He whistles in the direction of a what must be the garage. He’s apologetic when he turns to them, “Normally there’d be staff ready and waiting, but we rarely have such early arrivals.” 

Anne’s face falls, and he’s quick to add, “More than happy to accommodate you, of course. It’s good training for them to get on their feet bright and early. More of the day to tackle, and all that.”

It only takes a minute for a young guy with blond, messy hair and a very sunburnt nose to appear. He smiles large and bright as he heads towards the car to take out their luggage. He seems far too energetic and spry for the hour. 

Still, Harry feels like he should help out, heading to the boot to open it and tug out one of the suitcases.

“D’you need a job, mate? Cause you know m’getting paid to do this,” the boy says with an Irish lilt. It’s unexpected and Harry’s taken aback; is he imagining accents that remind him of home already? The jetlag must be playing tricks on his brain. 

The apparent Irishman continues, “Not that I don’t ‘preciate a helpin’ hand. S’pretty rare over here.”

And yeah, he’s definitely not American. Still, Harry asks, “Irish?”

He narrows his eyes at Harry. Up close he can tell that they’re red rimmed and puffy. He must’ve rolled right out of bed for this. He points at Harry before asking, “English?”

Harry nods, watching as he lines up another one of their suitcases next to the car. There’s a lot.

“You’ll love it here mate, it’s a proper British colony.” He laughs, then catches himself, making a face. “That’s probably not something I should be saying, is it? Bit un-PC, that. Didn’t mean it like that, just there’s a lot of us--”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

He huffs out a relieved laugh. “Cheers, mate! M’Niall,” he says, and reaches out a hand. Niall’s cheer and smile is infectious, Harry’s mouth tugging to one side. “S’pose I owe you for that one.” He winks.

“Harry.”

As they shake hands one of the suitcases starts tipping over and Niall grimaces before catching it, steadying it with his palms. 

“Nice to meet ya, Harry. I swear I normally have better hand-eye coordination than this.” He drums his fingers against the suitcase, lost in thought. “Everything will be in your cabin when you get there. S’number five I believe.”

“Thank you.”

“S’my job, mate,” Niall says, still beaming. 

James is still speaking when Harry joins them again, ”We’ve got volleyball and croquet, movie nights, badminton, beach ball, dance classes… I’m sure I’m forgetting things.”

Anne slings her arm around Harry’s shoulders, tugging him closer. 

“Dance classes?” 

“The best instructors in the county, there’s some former Rockettes on staff. And we’ve got some Juilliard graduates, even.” 

“Is there a beach?” Gemma asks, looking a bit more alive than Harry feels. He licks his lips, tasting the remnants of powdered sugar. He must look a right mess.

“Yes, we’re right on the lake so there’s a nice patch of sand there. And of course watersports!” Gemma coughs on that one, and Harry glares at her, sleepily. “We’ve got some horseback riding, nice romantic trails to wander about on.“

Harry tunes out what James’s saying, trying to focus on standing up straight. All he really wants to do right now is pass out. Sleep cycle be damned. Robin’s blinking lazily at James, nodding every now and then. He seems to be stifling a yawn. He must’ve used up his last energy reserves on the drive here. At least Harry’s not alone. Harry has no idea how Gemma and his mum are standing at attention.

“Would you like a tour? Gosh, I should have asked that right away, shouldn’t I? How rude of me.” James catches himself.

“Sounds lovely,” Anne says. 

“Hun, I think I need to go lie down for a bit, explore later?” Robin tells her, and Harry is quick to agree.

“I can’t say my feelings aren’t hurt, but I understand,” James says dramatically. “It will be impossible to recreate my spectacular tour, but I’m sure Anne and Gemma could try.”

“I think I can remember my way around.” Robin laughs with a shake of the head as a kid.

“Touché! Haven’t changed much around, that’s for sure,” James comments.

“Don’t ask me to give you the tour later,” Gemma teases Harry, tongue sticking out of her mouth as she bites down on her lower lip. Right, because this leaves Harry the only one who won’t know the lay of the land. He can probably ask Niall to show him around, if pressed. It's not like the grounds are huge. He’ll be fine.

 

❋

Their cabin is easy to find, Robin confidently leading them there. Harry didn’t have any expectations other than a nice hotel type bed, but that’s about it, and considering the way it looks from the outside he thinks that’s definitely in play. It’s larger than Harry would think a cabin would be, and the decor is far more modern than rustic. You could probably live here full time, if you weren’t much of a cook. 

It’s certainly not going to help him adjust to the shoe box he’ll have to move into after their holiday ends.

“It’s a bit much, innit?” Robin says, emerging from the master bedroom with a bottle of champagne that they’ve been gifted. There’s no way they would have opted for all these extras if they were covering the cost on their own. “S’pose we’ll save this for the last weekend.”

“It's probably a honeymoon gift for you and mum.”

“Yes, well, we can use it however we see fit and if we want to use it for a family toast before departing then that's what we'll do.”

Harry looks up from where he’s squatting in the kitchen, exploring the cabinets. It’s fully stocked with water bottles and coffee. There’s even a decent tea selection--no doubt thanks to James running the place. Robin places the bottle on the counter, next to the bowl of fresh fruit that’s been left for them.

“Mum is not going to want to share.” He gets up, joints aching. He really does need to lie down. 

“You say that as if I can't get us some champagne on one of our dates. The bubbles will flow freely, I know my romance ABCs.” Robin winks and cradles the bottle to his chest. Harry wrinkles his nose, trying to stop himself from looking horrified. Robin seems to catch on. “Was that too much?”

“Maybe a little.” 

Robin winks at him again, unapologetic. He sets the bottle aside and fills the electric kettle with enough water for the two of them. Harry pulls out two mugs for them.

As Harry waits for the water to boil he decides to explore the rest of the cabin. Since Gemma isn’t there to object, Harry picks the room with the nicest view, which also happens to come with a small veranda overlooking the woods. It’s only fair that he should have the largest room since he has the most luggage to store, really.

As promised, their baggage is lined up by the front door, so Harry hauls Gemma’s bags into the remaining free room. He returns to his room and considers unpacking. He loathes how pointless a chore it is, but he has such a mountain of things he doesn’t want to have to dig through everything he’s brought with him every time he gets dressed. 

Robin stops by with his mug of tea, says, “I’m gonna go sleep for as long as I can.” Harry nods along to that, staring longingly at his bed.

But yeah, no. He needs to at least make an effort. He opens up all his luggage and picks at the contents as he sips his tea. He slings shirts over the dresser door for easy access, and dumps his toiletries bag in the bathroom. He moves most of the stuff he’ll be wearing into his holdall for easy access, which should be good enough. He pauses when he feels his lube and condom bag in one of his suitcases. He takes out the lube, stashing that in one of the nightstand drawers. That at least he knows he’ll use.

Anne and Gemma return before he has time to pass out. He’s starfished on the bed, finishing his cuppa when Gemma appears at his door.

“Was going to ask if you wanted some tea but I see you’ve helped yourself,” Gemma comments with raised eyebrows. 

“Mhm, well. Had to keep occupied while you and mum gallivanted around.”

Gemma’s eyebrows quirk and she chokes out a laugh. “Right, I suppose you don’t want to join us for lunch either then? Above being out in public with the filthy masses and all that.” 

Harry really would rather sleep, but it feels like a challenge of sorts and, well. It would probably benefit him to stay up and about for a while longer. “Is Robin coming?”

“Mum doesn’t want to wake him up, apparently he’s as cute as a kitten when he sleeps.” Harry blinks, and Gemma nods at that. “Her words.”

Body heavy and limp, Harry does his best to push himself off of the bed, and sweeps the dregs of his tea.

❋

Lunch is an easy affair, not far from where they dropped off their car. Harry feels more and more like he’s walking in a haze the more time passes before he gets to sleep. Lunch is at the main house, not far from where they dropped off their car. Or so Harry thinks, blinking at his surroundings.

He’s amazed that he manages to finish his meal without spilling all over himself. He doesn’t keep up with Gemma and Anne’s conversation, nodding along to whenever they seemed to defer to his opinion. The most he could catch was that they were discussing available activities for them to partake in. 

Gemma yawns wide after they finish their meals, waiting for a packed up box to bring back for Robin. Harry’s grateful this means they can all go back and nap, and the thought alone sends sparks of energy through his limbs.

Harry’s barely got his door shut before he strips naked, skin itching to kiss the air. He wants to get rid of that stale airplane smell clinging to his clothes. The bed is an oasis, and he slips under the sheets easily. The cotton is cool and comforting and he wraps himself into the sheets.

Getting naked and unconscious is the best way to make himself feel at home, and he stretches out happily. Even the air seems to add to his fatigue. Each of his limbs feeling heavier with every breath.

He doesn’t have to do more than inhale deeply a couple of times before he’s out like a light. 

He’s startled awake by Gemma hopping onto his bed. “Expected more bounce out of that,” she complains, and he throws a pillow her way.

“Woke me up, alright.” 

“Yeah, but it’s not as fun without a proper bounce.”

“Good thing you have your own bed, then." 

She pushes herself up and straightens out her dress. “Right, not like I got to choose that, did I?” She raises one eyebrow, and he shrugs. “Doesn’t have a good bounce either.”

“Didn’t dibs anything, did you?”

“Insufferable, you are. Supper’s in five, by the way. Ta!” She smirks, waving her fingers at him before leaving the room. 

Five minutes. Knowing Gemma, she did this on purpose. 

Harry barely has time to pick an outfit from his poorly scattered clothes, grabbing a shirt and pants at random, and his hair's a mess. It could use a wash, as could the rest of him, really, but the others are waiting for him, impatiently. 

He picks up one of his scarves, tying it around his head to keep his curls in check. 

They arrive at the main house right on time, Harry still fiddling with his shirt buttons. The hostess informs them that seating is communal, but since it’s their first night at the resort they’ve been assigned to a table.

There’s menu cards on each of their plates offering meat, fish or veg options and suggesting wine pairings. It’s reminiscent of a wedding reception, with the servers collecting their orders and carrying bottles of wine, offering to top off everyone’s glasses.

Harry fully expected to spend the summer dry, but no one seems concerned with carding him, so he gets through two quite full glasses of red by the time their meal is over. 

As their meal tapers off, Harry spots James making the rounds, speaking with each of the guests. He definitely seems right at home running the resort, easily coaxing smiles and laughter from each person he speaks to. 

It’s their turn just before dessert and digestifs are served, James approaching as he rubs his hands together. He’s accompanied by a tall blonde who’s squinting at the table with a plastered on smile. 

James greets their tablemates first, ducking down to speak to one of the children, and resting his hands on their shoulder. The girl stands stiff behind him. Her lipstick is flawless and her teeth bright; Harry has no doubt she didn’t partake in supper.

James quickly moves on to them, clapping his hands with delight 

“And how is the Styles-Twist family doing? All good?”

“The trout was splendid,” Robin compliments, and Anne chimes in. Gemma seems as suspicious of the blonde on James’ arm as Harry is, which tells him there must be something to it. 

When James is done chatting up his mum and Robin, he turns to Gemma and Harry with an expectant expression. As if he’s about to present them with an excellent gift. It makes Harry a bit uncomfortable, and he shifts in his seat. 

“This is Taylor, an old friend of the family. She comes here every summer. I thought she might be able to help you guys? You know, give you some tips to maximize the experience while the lovebirds have their own fun.”

Taylor throws them a practiced wave and smile. Harry reciprocates, since it's only polite.

“I’ve told her you guys are very special guests, so she knows to really give you the best intel.”

“James, please. We don’t need special treatment,” Anne says. Her protest is weakened by James dismissing her with a wave.

“But I want you to have it.” He takes her hands in his, squeezing them tightly. Anne shakes her head the way she does when she’s trying to stop from getting teary eyed. “It makes me happy to make you happy.”

“Oh, stop,” her voice cracks. “I guess it won’t hurt for the two of you to be occupied,” she says to Harry and Gemma.

James nods his agreement. “Now stop protesting every time I offer you something, please? It’s making me feel bad.”

“Of course,” Anne says, voice steady again. She turns to face Taylor with genuine interest. “Nice to meet you, I’m Anne, this is Robin. And the kids are Gemma and Harry.”

“Pleasure,” Gemma says and Taylor smiles tightly, a slight nod in her direction before turning to Harry.

“Hi Harry,” Taylor says, staring at him intensely.

He’s just spooned some mousse into his mouth, and his tongue is still thick with it. He manages a weak, “Hullo, pleasure to meet you,” before clumsily getting up to shake her hand.

“I’ve got to go speak to the others, I trust you’ll take good care of Taylor?” James says, as he almost presents her to the table. Gemma squints in Harry’s direction.

“Of course,” Anne says, and shuffles her chair closer to Robin to make room. James has found a spare chair and brings it to them, before leaving them with a wave.

Gemma moves over so that Taylor can sit between her and Anne, keeping Harry at a slight distance and he’s never been more grateful. 

Taylor seems nice enough. Robin and Anne seem to be keeping her engaged in conversation, but even though she’s speaking to them she sneaks glances his way. She’s staring at him a bit like he’s on the menu and she hasn’t had a chance to eat yet. Which is highly unsettling.

“I used to be a brand ambassador for Skyy Vodka, in Manhattan, but I got tired of that life,” Taylor says as a bowl of parfait is placed in front of her. Almost like the servers knew she’d be joining them.

She uses her spoon to scoop up the raspberry it’s topped with and carefully eats it. She doesn’t seem to intend to eat the rest. 

“Is that where you hang out in clubs and get people to order drinks?” Gemma asks, spoon sticking out of her mouth. 

Taylor smiles, baring her teeth. “That’s one way of seeing it. Quite an oversimplification, though. You know, it requires being very good with people.”

“Must be hard work, all that schmoozing,” Robin comments between sips of his coffee. 

Taylor nods. “Yes, but a priceless experience, really. It’s just not that fulfilling? Just being a walking advertisement? Like I had to second guess everyone. Did they like me for me, or for the brand?”

“And what do you do now, dear?” Anne asks.

“I’ve been weighing my options.” She uses her spoon to cut through the parfait, a perfectly straight line. “There’s so much out there. There’s Yale medical school, but also Harvard Journalism. I just want to see the world though. So I was considering Oxford also. Or Cambridge, perhaps? Which is why I was so happy when James told me y’all would be here. I’d love to hear your thoughts. Harry, you might be able to tell me which is better?”

She’s staring at him with laser focus again, as if he’s the only one at the table. The intensity’s making him uncomfortable; if he hadn’t swallowed down his coffee already he probably would have choked.

“I’m not too familiar with those programs, but uh, sure.”

Anne is looking at him with a frown, and places her hand on Taylor’s arm to get her attention. Taylor turns with the same plastered smile. “Yes.” 

“Gemma might know more, dear,” Anne says, “she studied journalism.”

“Thank you for the suggestion, Anne, that’s so sweet. I wouldn’t want to bother Gemma though, I’m sure whatever Harry has to share will be just fine.”

Gemma turns towards him, rolling her eyes and mouth twisting. Harry has to stifle a laugh, not wanting to bring Taylor’s attention back to him. His mum notices though, raising her eyebrows in amusement. She shakes her head lightly, but doesn’t say anything.

They’re interrupted by the clinking of a glass. All heads turn towards the stage, where James is standing. 

“Thank you all, dearly, for joining us for supper. We’ve got some world class entertainment coming for you tonight. We’ve just got a bit of set up to do. If you’ll excuse the whirlwind, you’re all welcome to the bar for refreshments while we set up.”

“Oh, that’s my cue to return to the hatches,” Taylor says. She squeezes Harry’s shoulder tightly before leaving, waving at the others. 

Gemma watches her walk off with her eyebrows quirked. “Good luck with that, Haz.”

Harry doesn’t have time to respond before a whirlwind of servers descend on them. James wasn’t joking; their movements seem highly choreographed as they swarm the table, carefully piling all the dishes and glasses onto their trays. 

It’s a highly impressive ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ routine that leaves Harry slack jawed. “Were they always this organized?” He asks Robin, who’s managed to hold on to his coffee cup, downing the dregs.

“I didn’t quite pay attention to these things when I was younger. But knowing James, I’m not surprised he runs a tight ship.”

Harry has a hard time picturing James and Robin as kids, visiting the resort. He can’t quite imagine what the appeal would be for them as children, what would give them a formative enough experience that James would takeover the place, and that Robin wanted to return. 

There must be some magic in the soil, in the air. Harry wouldn't mind getting a taste of it for himself. 

Most of the tables have cleared up, the bar getting crowded with bodies. This is a perfect opportunity to try and get a better feel for the place, and scratch the surface to whatever’s enchanted Robin so thoroughly. 

“To the bar?” Harry asks, and is met with Gemma yawning widely. 

She sets off a reaction train among them, Robin almost dropping his coffee cup as he covers his own yawn, and Anne bursting into laughter. Even Harry caves, but recovers quickly, stretching his jaw and blinking exaggeratedly. 

“Some of us didn’t get to nap, you know,” Gemma says, rubbing her eyes. It’s true, but even Robin looks knackered and Harry could hear his snores shaking the walls from his room. 

They’re all overtired. 

For Harry though, it translates into being wide awake and fidgety. He doesn’t want to go back to the cabin just yet. He’s still buzzing from the trip, and his nap, however short, gave him a second wind now that he’s gotten some fresh air. 

“We don’t have to stay for long.” He’d try to tempt his mum with a glass of wine, but she’s already had her fill, and it tends to tire her out even more.

He’d normally be fine staying on his own and making friends, but he’s not too keen on it, especially knowing that Taylor is probably lurking about, waiting to trap him into a conversation that he probably won’t be able to escape. At least not politely. 

But from the way Anne’s face is drawn he doesn’t think he has much choice. 

“Mum.”

“Why don’t you stay and tell us all about it tomorrow? Young and spry, flutter amongst the crowd.”

“I should be insulted, shouldn’t I?” Gemma asks, offence in her tone but eyes sparkling with amusement.

Robin snorts, says, “I think that was a dig at me.”

“Oh, shush!” Anne bats at Robin’s shoulder before stroking it. She turns back to Harry. “Flap those social butterfly wings! Shoo,” she says, imitating the flutter of wings with her hands. 

Harry honks out a laugh, and Anne follows with her own, swiftly. Gemma shakes her head, but she can’t hide the small smile gracing her face.

It’s silly and ridiculous and so embarrassing, but Harry loves it, eats it up entirely, nose wrinkling reflexively. 

Anne touches Harry’s scarf, twisting it an inch, and tucking his hair back behind it. She says, “It’s a lovely colour on you, love. I’m sure all the youths will be dying to speak to you.”

“Thanks, mum. Have a good sleep.” 

She kisses him on the forehead before leaving, wiping off whatever traces of lipstick she’s left behind. Robin settles for a shoulder squeeze, and Gemma warns him that a wild night is required so she can live vicariously through him. “Find yourself and myself cute boys, will you?” is what she leaves on. 

No pressure. 

He still has some coffee left in his cup, and sips at it carefully, observing everyone that’s stayed behind. Most of the families with young children have left, although there’s a few pre-teens twirling on the freshly exposed dance floor. Two kids are recreating Beyonce’s ‘Single Ladies’ dance, a few more kids joining it. It doesn’t match the music that’s playing, and they’re not in sync, but their enthusiasm is contagious.

Coffee finished, he gets up with his cup, searching for a bus boy to leave it with. He finds one by the bar, where Niall is serving a middle aged man.

“Styles-Twist! Nice to see ya, mate,” he greets Harry, wiping his hands off on a towel. 

“S’just Styles, actually.”

“Noted.” Niall frowns, mock serious. “Nice to see you didn’t get buried under all that luggage.”

“I did offer to help you.”

Niall laughs. “Oh, that wasn’t a dig. I’m grateful for the arm workout. Saves me from hitting up the gym tomorrow.”

“If you say so.”

“I do,” Niall says, smacking the bar top. “What can I get started for ya?” He picks up a tumbler, waiting for direction.

“Not sure, actually. What can you recommend?” 

“You know we’ve got this amazing Cab, very exclusive. Might be a good way to start the night if you’re a wine guy. We’ve got some nice local brews too, some hearty IPAs. And well, I make a mean Long Island Iced Tea.” He winks, mouth slipping open. 

“Might try one of those local brews.”

“Coming right up.” Niall slaps the bar top, putting the tumbler back and picking up a pint glass. Harry watches as he wipes the rim, and tucks it under the tap.

“What is this?” He asks Niall, tipping his head at the speakers.

Niall frowns. “Oh, hm. Pro’ly summat local? When we don’t have a DJ it’s all a mix of old master tapes left behind and stuff the local bands have dropped off. Played one of mine, once,” he says, proudly.

“You’re in a band?” 

Niall’s cheeks stiffen as he shakes his head. “Nah, mate, was. Before this gig came up. Not much time for rehearsal with these hours. S’good stuff though.”

He skims the foam off the top of the glass before handing it over.

“Thanks,” Harry says before taking a quick sip. It’s bitter, grassy on his tongue and he has to swallow twice, trying to get used to the taste. His mouth tastes like a farm. Perhaps he’s not an IPA guy after all.

His displeasure must be notable, since Niall barks out a laugh, throwing his head back. He gestures at him, says, “Here mate, I can finish it off. Maybe that Cab would be more up your alley?”

“I think just a soda will do for now.”

Niall nods, agreeing easily. “Mexican coke ought to straighten you out.” He winks. He cracks open a small bottle and slides it over. 

“Thanks.” Harry toasts the air, and Niall imitates the gesture with his water bottle. His gaze shifts away from Harry’s face, eyebrows arching and mouth dropping open for a split second, and Harry has to turn to see what he’s looking at.

It’s a couple, coming in through the side door. The bloke has a leather jacket loose over his shoulders and sunglasses on. His hair is in a half quiff, slightly deflated but it’s possibly on purpose, especially considering the way the strands of hair frame his face. Everything about his appearance looks intentional. From what Harry can see of his face it looks nice, but he’d quite like to see his eyes as well. It’s not even light out, there’s no reason for him to be wearing his sunnies. 

The girl he’s with has bleach blonde hair with pink tips, similar to what Gemma has been sporting lately. She at least has the decency to wear her sunglasses on her head. She’s gorgeous, with the highest heels he’s seen and walks with confidence.

Niall salutes them, and the bloke tips his head towards the door they just came through. They go back from whence they came. 

Attention back on Harry, Niall says, “Duty calls.” He leaves his towel before getting out from behind the bar, jogging towards the exit.

Harry’s curiosity is piqued.

He could stay behind, and find out what the entertainment will entail. Make some new friends. Which sounds splendid. But still, not quite as appealing as whatever the mystery couple called Niall away for. 

He takes a long gulp from his coke before leaving it on the bar, heading towards the same door Niall left the building through.

There’s nothing on the other side, which is curious. They must’ve gone somewhere. He walks alongside the building for a bit, trying to sharpen his hearing and see if he can discern anything other than leaves rustling in the breeze. 

The building ends, and nearby is an annex, the windows are illuminated, shining like beacons. Could that be it?

Harry has nothing to lose, so he walks over to the side of the annex. He doesn’t want to wander in; although he could probably get away with the ‘didn’t know better’ card, he’d rather find out what’s going on rather than interrupt it. 

None of the curtains are drawn so he can easily peek inside. He finds a spot near an open window where there’s no lamp, just so that he can blend into the scenery and not be seen.

Inside, he spots James, and a crowd of people around his own age. James looks a bit more relaxed in this setting, his jacket unbuttoned, and a finger loosening his collar.

He whistles, fingers stuck in his mouth until he gets everyone’s attention. 

“Alright, gather ‘round, everyone!” He bellows, and the crew crowds around him, some sitting down on stray chairs, and a few even dropping to the floor, stretching their legs out in front of them. 

When James seems satisfied with the attention being on him, he speaks again. It sounds like a rehearsed speech, and Harry tunes most of it out. It’s clearly a work thing, but he’s still curious about who’s gathered ‘round, and if he can find out anything interesting. If he can figure out who’s friends with Niall, he’s bound to find out good people to make friends with. 

Some of the girls look familiar, and he spots Niall behind a brunette, hands clasped over her shoulders. He’s half paying attention to James, teasing the girl’s ponytail. She doesn’t seem to mind. 

The bloke from earlier slowly ambles towards them, the girl he was with trailing behind him.

“Did ya hear that, Tommo?” Niall asks, and the bloke -- Tommo -- flips him off.

Tommo speaks as he joins the circle of people, “Same deal every year, innit. Keep the kids happy, don’t want to hear any complaints about any of you, no hanky panky, etcetera etcetera.” 

Harry can hear enough to hear that Tommo’s British too. Niall wasn’t exaggerating when he said there were plenty of them around. He’s curious if that’s James’ doing; getting people across the pond who might want to relocate? Or if more of them are attracted to Corden’s because of him. He’ll have to ask Niall about it, later.

“Very good summary, Tomlinson, would you like to take over the rest of the speech?” James asks, and Tommo or Tomlinson or whatever his name actually is smiles before straddling a chair. 

The girl he’s with sits next to him and the brunette Niall was talking to, crossing her legs.

“Teach the boys and girls what they want. Bust out all the tricks on performance night so they’ll want classes, sell it to them hard,” the blonde adds and James nods at her. She smirks before continuing, “Oh and, all staff must wash their hands.”

James grimaces at the addition, ignoring it. “Very well, Edwards. Making me feel quite unnecessary right now. Wouldn’t be quite so cutthroat with the selling aspect, I don’t think.”

“Shouldn’t you be glad we know all the rules already?” Niall speaks up and James shrugs. 

“You may go through this every year, Horan, but that’s not the case for everyone else. So please,” James pleads. He mimics zipping his mouth.

“I’m not the one who started talking,” Niall protests and Tomlinson shushes him, pressing a finger against his mouth. Niall opens his mouth and feigns biting it.

“Do I have to separate you again?” James sighs with his eyes closed. Tomlinson shakes his head, wiping his finger off on Niall’s shirt. Edwards’ shoulder shakes with laughter, but she mimics keeping her mouth zipped.

James waits for the excitement to die down before resuming his speech. 

Harry doesn’t pay much attention to the rest of it, watching Niall trying to disturb Tomlinson instead. He taps him on the shoulder seemingly expecting him to turn around. When he doesn't Niall tries to grab his sunglasses. Tomlinson grabs his hand immediately and Niall grimaces.

“You'll have to ask nicely if you want to borrow the aviators,” he says and moves to take them off.

Harry catches his breath, waiting for the reveal of his face.

“Harry?” A familiar voice says behind him, followed by a caress on his shoulder. He practically jumps out of his skin, turning around.

It’s Taylor.

“Hi,” he says, probably sounding more clipped than he intends. He’s feeling caught, uncertain what her objective might be. 

“Didn’t see you inside, wondered if you’d turned in already.” She tucks her hair behind her shoulder.

“Just getting some fresh air.”

Her lips quirk at that. “You know you shouldn’t be wandering around all by your lonesome,” she teases, palm pushing against his shoulder in a playful way. He steps aside, leaving a bit more room between them.

“Why? Is it dangerous?”

She rolls her eyes and laughs. “No, don’t be silly, but it’s a bit creepy don’t you think? A bit misanthropic?”

He shrugs. He spent the whole trip here with his family, and just had dinner with them and two other families. He quite thinks he’s deserved a bit of alone time. 

“Just wanted to explore the grounds, really.” He stuffs his fists into his pockets. Taylor’s studying him carefully, her expression a perfect mask.

“Well, there’s really nothing interesting going on in there. Just the waitstaff getting briefed. James runs quite a tight ship.”

“Those other people aren’t with the waitstaff are they? Niall-- he helped with our baggage -- he’s there and he’s not a server? Or is he?”

She peeks in through the window, eyebrow raised as she spots the group that Harry’s talking about.

“No, that’s the entertainment crew. Tasked to get the crowd going every night. Those must be the July replacements.” She smirks. “ I guess you could think of them as our sacrificial lambs. They get tired out quite quickly and replaced with fresh blood. Unfortunate.”

She doesn’t sound like she means it at all. 

Harry frowns at her comment, but she seems lost in her own cleverness. She pulls at one of thread crisscrossing the top of her dress, revealing more of her collarbone. She cocks her head, like she expects a laugh, or agreement of some kind. 

When it doesn’t come she pinches her lips, eyes narrowing further. “It’s really of no interest to you, or anyone, but they must be kept in line, of course.”

“What exactly is your job here, Taylor? You’re not actually a guest, are you?”

“Just making sure everyone is having a good time.” She says it breezily, leaning against the windowsill.

Harry nods towards the window. “Like them, then? The entertainment crew’s here for guests to have a good time aren’t they?”

Her lips thin out in a strained smile.

“Well, it’s not quite the same. I suppose I’m somewhat of an official representative.” She sniffs. “Not a trained monkey.”

“Then you’re representing them too, aren’t you? Since they’re part of the resort.”

Her smile widens, a peek of teeth visible under her upper lip. “I suppose you have a point there.”

He doesn’t smile back. His frown as present as ever, perfectly encapsulating what he has to say about the matter.

She drums her fingers against the windowsill, as if waiting for him to say something else. He looks back inside. James is gone, and the group seems to have dispersed. Niall and Tomlinson are nowhere to be seen.

“I’ll walk you back to your cabin,” Taylor says, tone almost shrill.

He'd rather not have to spend more time with her but he should probably get back now anyway. Might be a bit hard to explain that he'd rather creep on the staff than get to bed. 

They walk in silence, Taylor bumping her hand against his in a deliberate way. He stuffs them both in his pockets. 

“Oh, this is a nice cabin.”

“Is it?” 

“Mhm, must be well off. Most families opt for one of the smaller ones with cots and bunk beds. This has three bedrooms and a fireplace, doesn’t it?“

“I-- I mean I guess it does, yeah.”

“It’s a functioning fireplace, did you know?”

His chest deflates as he exhales, exasperated. “No, I didn't. Saw it, obviously. Didn’t realize it was in order.”

“Should be mentioned in the welcome brochure.” She frowns. “Did you not get one? I can go get it for you or help you find it if you'd like.” She steps towards the door and he has to move to block her way. Not in a rude way just… enough to discourage her approach. 

“No, I'm sure it's there just day one and all. I'll find it and read it tomorrow.”

“Or I can tell you all about it. I have the specifics of each cabin memorized.”

Somehow Harry doubts she has anything memorized for the budget options but he's not about to investigate.

“I like to read.”

“Right. If you need help with the fireplace though I'm your _lass_ ,” she says, putting on an accent. “Great at hands on assistance as well.” Her smile is as perky as ever.

“But it’s quite hot already, why would you want more heat? I’m quite certain this shirt has been wrecked.” It’s true, he can feel the wet spot on the small of his back. It’s been growing throughout the evening. 

“It’s romantic. You know, just cozy up next to the fireplace with some thick blankets. Drinking hot cocoa.”

“Seems more like a winter activity to me.”

She rolls her eyes, tipping her head. As if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, she says, “That’s what the AC is for. If it’s on high enough you’ll be dying for a nice fire to bundle up next to.”

That’s possibly the daftest thing Harry’s ever heard. He’s distracted from responding by Taylor seemingly inching closer to him, her long fingers wrapping around his wrist. 

He quickly pulls it away, tucking his hair back behind his ear. He’s not quite sure why she’s set her sights on him, specifically, but he’d like to undo that.

“No. Is that quite safe? Doesn’t seem safe. None of us have had fire training or anything. Is that something we can get certified in or summat?”

She laughs at him, loud and clear and it pierces through the surr of crickets. 

“You’re a real hoot.”

Is he? Those were all serious questions. 

“You know I’ve never actually been inside one of these luxury cabins.”

“I don’t believe that.” He really, really doesn’t. Especially not after her offer to provide hands on assistance with the fireplace.

She rolls her eyes, her perfect facade crumbling for a split second before she recovers. “Well, not one that people were actually staying in. It’s not quite the same to just go into an empty one. I’d love to see what you’ve done with the place.”

“I mean, I haven’t even unpacked.” The lie comes easily.

“Well, you know where to find me.” She shrugs conspiratorially, and Harry does his best to remain neutral. 

He doesn’t actually know where to find her, but he also doesn’t care to find out. It seems she has no problems finding him, anyway. 

He clears his throat. “You know this isn’t… we’ve only got this cabin as a gift from James. We’d be fine with something smaller, probably would prefer it actually.”

Taylor doesn’t seem to take him seriously, smiling like she’s been let in on some sort of con. “Sure, a gift. I understand,” she says with a wink, “Your secret is safe with me, Harry.”

She backs away, before he has a chance to respond, which is just as well. He’s not sure what he could possibly say to sway her at this point. 

Gemma’s sat in front of the -- apparently woefully -- unused fireplace, curled up with her book. She’s in her pyjamas already, half dozing. Her eyes flick up at him briefly, eyebrows arched. “That was a short excursion.”

“Taylor found me and decided I should be escorted back home.”

“Escorted?” Gemma cocks an eyebrow. “How did she know you were such a troublemaker?”

“G, come on.”

She sets her book aside, looking more awake. “You’re not letting that ruin your night, are you?”

“No, I just want to make sure she’s left. She kept gushing about the cabin. Wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to break in to use the bubble bath.”

“Harry!” Gemma gasps before smirking. “That was wicked. I love it.”

Harry covers his face with his hands. “Right. I just don’t understand what she wants.”

“You’re a hot, eligible, rich boy,” she says with a put on American accent, “what’s not to love?”

“You know, I told her our stay was gifted and she didn’t believe me.”

“‘F course not.” She rolls her eyes. “Can’t believe she found you though, does she have a tracker on you already?”

He rubs the back of his neck. The switch from the hot outside to the cool interior is messing with his body temperature again. Despite his hair sticking to his skin, a chill quickly settles over him.

“Avoided her during the social hour. But she got to me when I was up by the annex of the main house.” He tries not to blush at the image he must have made, pressed up against the window, trying to get a better look at the people inside. Well, one person in particular. “Only building with lights on.”

Gemma taps out a rhythm against the spine of her book. 

“Well, that was your mistake wasn’t it? Loitering about in a lit area. You’ll never find anything exciting that way. The road less traveled and all that.”

“M’ sorry, it almost sounds like you’re encouraging me to wander into the woods and get mauled by a bear.”

“The worst thing that’ll happen is you’ll step on a porcupine.” She rolls her head back. “I doubt there’s any bears around. Too populated.”

“Still sounds quite painful, that,” he says. 

Gemma gets up, stretches out, and backs away in the direction of her bedroom. 

“Stop being daft, Harry. The elders need their sleep, but I expect loads of stories from you tomorrow. I must live vicariously through your adventures. Nourish the older generation!” She calls out after him, arms dramatically waving about. 

He doesn’t even try to suppress his laughter. He certainly isn’t tired enough to go to sleep. And well, he only had a chance to check out a fraction of the grounds...

He quickly changes out of his clothes. His bright shirt is probably part of the reason Taylor spotted him to begin with. The only black shirt he has is sheer and while it’s not the pinnacle of comfort at least it’s airy and will allow for him to blend in with the surroundings. His neck is still damp with sweat, and he does his best to put up his hair in a half bun, loose strands gathered behind his ears. He slips into his worn out Nike’s, immediately feeling much more comfortable. 

He leaves through the door in his room, allowing him to sneak into the woods more easily. No one’s watching, but it feels more covert and gives him a thrill. 

He passes a few cabins with lights on, getting a thrill from being stealthy. He just hopes no one spots him lurking about and gets a fright. 

At the end of the row of cabins he spots a gazebo with string lights in the distance, and farther out, what looks like a tennis court. The place is much larger than he expected. Perhaps he should’ve paid more attention to James when he spoke about what the resort offered. At least then he’d know what to be on the lookout for, and be able to create a mental map of sorts. 

He remembers Gemma asking about a beach, and James confirming. It’s probably farther away, so he finds a path that diverts from the main buildings. It leads into a thicket of trees. 

The path is clearly demarcated at first, despite the darkness. There are no branches hanging low, and no stones that could easily be tripped on, just a patch of light soil and gravel leading the way. Which seems to suggest that he’s still in the clear and on sanctioned resort grounds. 

He still takes out his phone and makes use of the flashlight. If nothing else so that he can alert any wildlife to his presence. Gemma might think there’s no bears around, but he’s not entirely convinced. He’s far enough from the main buildings that he doesn’t think he’ll run into anyone, but it’s probably safest to be visible.

He considers turning back after he passes an empty clearing -- maybe this is all the path was leading to -- but there’s a crack in the silence that has persisted until now. 

It’s a crack that sounds a lot like bass. Bass pumping through a stereo. He’s walked for quite a while, long enough that he can’t even see the lights from the main grounds, so he doubts it’s coming from there. Besides, the music seems to be coming from up ahead, not behind him, so he perseveres. 

The path becomes less worn as he carries on, to the point that it doesn’t feel like a path anymore. There’s bushes brushing against his shins and he has to duck a few times as to not get hit in the face with branches. The music just gets louder, though, so he knows he’s getting somewhere.

Eventually the branches open up on an improvised car park. There’s only one large beat up van visible, but even in the darkness he can make out multiple tire tracks. 

A figure moves inside the van, and they clamber out of the car with great difficulty. 

As soon as Harry spots the blond hair and the glasses he recognizes the figure as Niall. He seems to be trying to balance three watermelons in his arms as he uses his hip to close the car door. His hold looks precarious, and Harry jogs up to him and takes one out of his arms, easily.

“Styles! Thanks mate.” With less in his arms he manages to use the back of his hand to push up his glasses.

“No problem. Is this your supper then?” He asks, inspecting the watermelon as if it were a delectable meal. “Or just a late night snack?” 

Niall scoffs, but his expression is still bright as he shakes his head. “Nah, mate, they do feed us, I’d turn down the lovely options available to the staff. This is party snacks.”

“A bit hard to snack on.”

“But excellent to absorb alcohol,” Niall says with a quick, clever nod.

Niall certainly has a point. He doesn’t seem to want to volunteer more information, so Harry asks, “Is that where the music is coming from? A party?” 

Niall shifts his weight, considering his next words. It’s a rhetorical question, really. Where they stand it’s obvious the music is coming from the house just up the stairs. But it’s only polite to let Niall deny it if he wants.

Harry certainly hopes he doesn’t, though.

Niall bites into his lower lip before exhaling loudly. 

“Yeah, I’m actually a bit late, got caught up in wrangling this from the kitchen. These are a bit overripe for you fancy folk apparently.” He grins wide, teeth glinting in the moonlight. He tips his head at the melon in Harry’s arms “Pass it back.” 

“Dunno Niall your hands seem quite full already. I’ll take admission to this party as payment for carrying the melon.”

Niall chuckles and shakes his head. “Nah, mate, this is a staff only event. No guests allowed.”

“Even if they’re cool enough to blend in?” He coaxes. With anyone else he’d be worried about angering them. But Niall seems like he’s on the verge of being convinced. If nothing else, he most definitely needs Harry’s help to carry the watermelon to the party. 

“Styles…”

“Maybe I’ll just keep it then.” Harry shifts the melon in his grip, easily tucking it over his shoulder.

He backs up instinctively, cradling the watermelon protectively, even though there’s no way Niall could take it from him. In fact, there’s no way Niall could even carry all three melons at once, something he seems painfully aware of as he drops his head to his chest and shakes it. He looks back up at Harry, on the brink of amusement.

Harry shrugs easily, flashing an uneven smile. 

“That’s devious, well played.” He seems to consider the matter briefly, and then nods up towards the house in the distance. “S’across the bridge and up some steps, think you can handle it?”

Harry carefully cradles the melon and lifts it over his head, out of Niall’s reach. He lifts and lowers it a few times, mimicking a bastardized tricep curl.

Niall’s mouth drops open, and a single laugh erupts from his throat. 

“Alright, mate, no need for acrobatics, just asking a question. And here I thought that baggage of yours was plenty of exercise,” he says, but there’s no bite to it. “I get it, you’ve got excellent arm strength. I’ve got skills of my own, y’know.”

Niall leads the way towards the house, the music loud enough to make Harry’s skin vibrate. 

He kicks open the door and holds it open for Harry with his foot. 

Harry hesitates, and a guy and girl sneak past them, holding hands. The girl seems to recognize him, and squints in surprise. He smiles on reflex, and her face softens. She was one of the servers at supper. 

“Bye Tanya!” Niall calls after them, and the girl flips him off. Niall cackles. “Good time, that one.” 

He cocks his head towards the room. “Go on then. Consider this your repayment for earlier.”

Harry’s fingers are sweaty, grip slipping around the melon. 

“I didn’t mean to pressure you, I can just. Drop this off and head back.”

“Mate. If it was really a problem I’d have let you walk off with the melon. S’not that big of a deal, alright? I know you’re a good egg. Just don’t spread it around the tennis court or the pool, yeah?”

Harry smiles at that. “I won’t.”

“Right. Ready for a good time, then?”

Harry nods eagerly before crossing the threshold, Niall following close behind. 

Harry’s not quite sure what he was expecting, but it isn’t this.

He can’t see much, wading through a thick press of bodies undulating against one another. He stops in his track when Niall doesn’t seem to follow him. A glance behind him reveals that he’s speaking to a bloke leaning against the doorway. 

Returning his attention to the dance floor, Harry thinks he spots the couple from earlier, Tomlinson and Edwards. His quiff has fallen completely in the heat, hair sweeping across his forehead as he moves on the dance floor. 

They’re good. If he didn’t know already they were part of the entertainment crew, this would’ve been a dead giveaway. Despite the crowd, they move seamlessly against one another, completely focused on each other. Harry can’t take his eyes off of Tomlinson’s bare face.

A quick smile graces Tomlinson’s face before he pushes her away, letting her turn and twists before grabbing her hand and pulling her close again. Despite the close quarters, she doesn’t even nudge anyone else, as if a clear path was made just for her as she twirled. 

“Classic Tommo Twist,” Niall says, when he notices what Harry’s been staring at. The question must be plain on Harry’s face. “It’s Louis’ signature move. What scores them all the best performances.”

They’re back to being flushed close, Edwards’ knee sliding up his leg, and he dips her, low enough that her ponytail grazes the floor. They seem so at ease together.

“Oh?” His stomach turns a bit. Of course, the most intriguing man Harry’s ever seen is half of the It couple at the resort. 

“Oh, yeah, they’ve known each other for ages. Perrie won’t perform with anyone else. Personally I think it’s ‘cause she’s tired of people groping her bum.”

Harry blinks. That's being proper committed, not even performing with someone else when that’s her job. 

“They must’ve been together for a long time then.”

Niall thinks about it. “I mean yeah, we’ve all been friends for a while. Louis got me this gig, you know? Was tired of listening to me whine about data entry, figured the fresh air’d do me some good.” He squints, lost in thought. “I think the two of ‘em met in uni or summat.”

Harry nods, but his eyes are still glued to Louis and Perrie across the room. There’s plenty of other dancers being far more raunchy, but there’s something about Louis’ easy confidence that’s captivating him. 

Louis’ hands are steady on Perrie’s waist, and she wriggles in his hold, waiting to be dipped again. It gnaws at Harry, the intensity with which they’re moving. Louis leans in, whispering something in her ear and she laughs, turning around. 

He can’t imagine being able to look away, if he were on the receiving end of Louis’ stare. The thought alone is making him dizzy.

Or maybe it’s just the heat. He’s pretty sure his shirt’s gotten drenched again, the fabric damp around his underarms.

“Alright, time to prep this for the masses,” Niall says, nodding towards the back of the room. Harry follows as Niall leads the way through a swing door into a cramped kitchen, and Niall piles the melons into the sink. 

“Come on,” he says, motioning for Harry to do the same. Niall quickly rinses the melons before taking them out again. He stabs one with a large kitchen knife, doing his best to slice it in two.

“Pass me the vodka,” he asks, “should be in the freezer.”

Harry grabs it and hands it over, Niall quickly turns the bottle upside down and plunges into the red flesh of the melon. He counts loudly, before yanking the bottle out and plunging it into the other half. He repeats this until the bottle is empty and all the melons have been drenched.

“Grab a beer from the cooler if you want. Or make yourself a drink, should be plenty of mixers.”

Harry goes for the cooler, grabbing a Stella, not wanting to mess around too much with the liquor set up. It’s not his favourite, but nowhere near as bad as the IPA from earlier. It’s cold enough that it’s refreshing, the bready taste still lingering on his tongue.

Niall seems to have his routine down, sharp knife in his steady hand as he cuts up the melons into proper slices. Harry watches him work, finishing his Stella in record time.

“This is the best way to stay hydrated and drunk at the same time,” Niall says proudly, dropping the last of the slices into a bowl. He offers it up to Harry, and he takes a large one, biting into it.

“Solid plan.”

The door swings open and Perrie comes in, fanning herself and blinking rapidly. 

“Niall! Thank God you’re here,” she exclaims, pressing close against Niall and stealing one of the melon slices he’s plated. She’s still fanning herself, and she moans as she chews on the melon. “So good.”

“I know what you like,” Niall says with a wink. He offers the plated slices to Harry, and he grabs one, biting into it hungrily.

“My make up’s running like mad. It really should be completely sweat proof, don’t you think?”

She drops the melon rind into the bin, and goes straight for the freezer, taking out an icepack and resting it against her chest.

“Love, you’ve got some juice around your mouth,” she tells Harry, and he uses the bottom of his shirt to wipe himself clean, exposing his belly.

“What kind of debauchery is happening in here?” It’s a man’s voice, and from the accent and the way Niall chuckles it can only be--

“Louis, this is--” Perrie starts, and pauses. “Actually I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced, love, but I assume you’re a friend of Niall’s?”

“Blackmailer, more like,” Niall says, and scoffs. Perrie rolls her eyes. She moves the ice pack down her chest.

“Harry.”

“Pleasure to meet you Harry, I’m Perrie, and this cranky ol’ sod is Louis.” Louis is studying him carefully, like he’s trying to figure him out. He’s still holding on to his melon rind, so he disposes of it under Louis’ watchful eye.

Niall turns around, gesturing with the knife in his hand.

“He’s a guest. So don’t go spilling any top secret information around him.” 

“I reckon he could gather more dirt from this party than from me,” Louis says, tipping his drink in Harry’s direction before downing it. “Why’s he here anyway? Other than to welcome people into the kitchen by exposing his abs.”

“I carried a watermelon.” No sooner are the words out than he regrets them. What kind of explanation is that? 

Niall’s laughing, as always, and Harry shoves his bottle back in his mouth to stop himself from blurting anything else idiotic out. 

“Is that right?” He scans Harry slowly, taking him in. Or at least that’s what it feels like. “I didn’t realize that was all it took, Niall. Manual labor in exchange for the sickest throwdown of the year?”

“He’s cool.”

“Right. I’m not sure I trust your opinion. You’re always the one enforcing the no-outsiders rule. There’s gotta be more to it than that. Did he pay cover?”

“I’m covering him.” 

Louis cocks an eyebrow. “Is this a _date_ , Nialler? You should have told me, I’d have been far kinder.”

“Ha ha,” Niall says, and pours another gimlet, handing it to Louis. He sips it carefully, tongue darting out to lick his lips when he’s done. 

“You bring a date and didn’t even have the decency to bring some wine,” Louis continues. Turning to Harry, he says, “Could do much better than that, Curly. Wining and dining is the way to go and Neil’s oh-for-oh right now. You could do much better.” He quirks his eyebrow, still staring intently at Harry as he speaks. 

“S’not a date,” Harry says, and Niall bites down on his lip, shoulders shaking. 

“Hmm.” 

“I didn’t know there was cover. Would’ve paid, honestly. I don’t want to get Niall into trouble.”

“I’m not in trouble,” Niall says, and Louis shushes him. 

“Did you think the booze was all comped?” Louis takes another sip of his drink, teasing. His gaze is intent, curiosity glinting in his eye. Harry looks down at his still full bottle. He didn’t really think anything. But it makes sense, just because the watermelons and snacks had been nicked from the kitchen doesn’t mean the liquor was. It’s not like that goes bad. “S’why Neil here never brings the good stuff, we can’t well deplete the bar stash. Gotta go into town and stock up at TJs.”

“No, I-- I guess I didn’t think about it.”

“Don’t worry about it, love,” Perrie says, and smacks Louis in the chest. “Be nice, Tommo,” she says to Louis before putting the ice back into the freezer, and grabbing a beer. 

“I’m always nice,” Louis is speaking to her, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off of Harry. 

“Keep telling yourself that,” she says, and throws her bottle cap at him before backing away, disappearing out of the kitchen with a, “Ta!” 

“Always a hoot, that one,” Niall says, and Harry nods his agreement, just so he’s got something to do. Louis is still staring at him. It’s unsettling, the way he manages to bore into him, and Harry doesn’t want it to stop. He’d happily stay under Louis’ scrutiny for however long he wants to observe him. But for that he has to stay with Harry. 

“Niall said you got him the job.”

“Mhm.” A close lipped smile erupts over his face. “You planning on wasting your night out in the kitchen?”

He shrugs. “Seems a bit intense out there.”

Louis smiles broadly. “Yes, that is the point. Can’t do this around the guests without risking some indecency charges. Some angry emails. Which is why we let it all out under the cover of darkness.”

“Right.”

“Since you’re not here on a date, I’m guessing that means your dance card is empty?”

“My--” Harry frowns and his mouth goes slack when he realizes what Louis is saying. His throat is suddenly dry, despite the beer he’s just downed. “I don’t know how to lead.”

“I’ll lead.”

“I-- you want me to dance with you?” Harry manages to say it without stuttering, which he’s incredibly proud of. The corner of Louis’ mouth has tensed, the smile lines stiffening ever so slightly.

“What, does it make you uncomfortable?” He drawls out his words intentionally, pinning Harry with his eyes.

The answer, of course, is _Yes _. Yes, it makes Harry uncomfortable. Because the thought of popping a boner in front of the staff which includes his brand new friends and Louis’ girlfriend isn’t exactly something Harry’s excited about. But he can't quite say that, can he?__

__“No I just…” he trails off, hoping that’s vague enough for Louis to drop the subject. Louis is still staring at him, unblinking. Harry grabs a slice of watermelon needing to occupy his mouth and takes a too big bite. Juice runs down the side of his mouth, and he does his best to wipe it off with the back of his hand._ _

__He thinks he sees Louis’ eyes dart to his lips, but it’s so quick, he must have imagined it._ _

__“You just said you didn’t know how to lead. Well, I do. Quite well, in fact.” Louis’ teeth are bared as he smiles._ _

__Niall speaks up, “Should do it, Harry, a Tommo freebie is a rare thing to come by.”_ _

__Louis cocks his head, but doesn’t deny it. “You should listen to your benefactor over there. He knows best.”_ _

__“Oi! Can you say that again, I need to record it.”_ _

__“Piss off, Horan.”_ _

__“Such a moody prick, you are,” Niall says with a shake of his head._ _

__Louis ignores him, asks, “So?”_ _

__All Harry can do is shrug. He finishes off the rest of his watermelon, the wet flesh squishing in his mouth, he swallows it quickly, and makes sure to lick his lips properly, not wanting a trail of sticky juice to be caught around his mouth. This time he definitely catches Louis staring, and the realization makes him swallow wrong, a cough erupting from his throat._ _

__Louis is quick, patting his back and leaning in. “Y’alright? Don’t hurt yourself, love.”_ _

__Harry can feel his insides tighten at the endearment, although Perrie had just called him that earlier. It’s probably a couple thing, calling people love. Harry isn’t special. It doesn’t mean anything. He just needs to keep it together now._ _

__“M’good,” he chokes out. “Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t all covered in juice.”_ _

__Louis smirks, and seems to take that as an invitation to study his face. He motions for Harry to turn his head in Louis’ direction. The way his fingers twitch suggest he wants to cradle Harry’s jaw, and Harry can feel his pulse thrumming at that._ _

__Louis doesn’t touch him, though. His eyes skate over Harry’s face and he nods, satisfied. “Looks good to me.”_ _

__Niall mutters something that Harry can’t hear, but Louis clearly does. “Thought I told you to piss off, didn’t I?”_ _

__“Off you go then!” Niall shouts, and Louis rolls his eyes._ _

__“Shall we?” He asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer. He grabs Harry’s hand and pulls him out of the kitchen and into the crowded dance floor._ _

__Harry wants to apologize to the people they’re disturbing as they shoulder their way through, but there’s no bothered glares or mumbled curses. They see Louis coming, and leave a space for him to move past them._ _

__Harry squeezes Louis’ hand tightly, and Louis squeezes back. Louis’ grip is strong and certain as he drags Harry to a spot in the middle of the floor._ _

__“This’ll be easy. Just follow my moves.” Louis places one hand on Harry’s hip, and grabs Harry’s hand in his other, extending their arms. Harry has no idea what he’s doing, trying to get used to the weight of Louis’ hand on him._ _

__“I don’t know the moves, though.”_ _

__“S’no matter. If I do my job right you won’t have to know them. Just do what comes to you.”_ _

__Harry nods, because he doesn’t know what else he can do. He can barely hear himself think over the pounding of the music and the overwhelming weight of Louis’ stare._ _

__If he didn’t already feel like he was overheating, this would certainly do it._ _

__Harry’s pretty sure Louis can feel the heavy thrum of his pulse in his hand. Which is all damp and sweaty. And clinging tightly to Louis’. _Christ._ Hopefully Louis only thinks Harry’s nervous about the dancing._ _

__“Stop thinking,” Louis says, kindly. “You’ve got to clear your head.”_ _

__It’s hard not to be hyper aware of the limbs flailing around them, the energy in the room. And yet he’s magnetized by Louis’ presence. The way he’s so close to him, but not for the reason Harry would prefer._ _

__“Dunno how.”_ _

__“Close your eyes. Can you feel me, actually feel me?” Louis presses his fingers into Harry’s flesh, the touch awakening all his nerve endings. He nods. That’s the problem though. He’s too aware of Louis’ presence to fully relax. And the way Louis’ tone has gone soft and understanding is making things so much worse. At least when he was teasing Niall in the kitchen it was easy to pretend to be unaffected._ _

__Shit. If they were at a club right now Harry would be acing this. He’d have Louis drooling over him in no time, he knows. He could grind slow, raise his hands in the air and tip his head back, exposing his throat. Let his hair graze his shoulder blades. He could flutter his eyelashes, lick his lips, mime along to the music._ _

__He could grab Louis’ hips and pull them flush against his. He’d turn him around, pressing his back against Harry’s chest until his heartbeat could be felt throughout his body. Harry’d be bold, hooking his thumbs in Louis’ belt loops, fingers skating just around the edge of indecency..._ _

__He’d have him falling apart in a heartbeat._ _

__But this… the choreographed dancing. The planned moves. Harry’s got two left feet and he’s making himself look terrible. He wants to pull away, save whatever little dignity he has left. But Louis’ hold on him is tight, still._ _

__Louis’ close, speaking softly into Harry’s ear, “Right. So think of it like, there’s strings attached to my hands, right? And they’re connected to you, right now. Here.” He squeezes Harry’s hand. “And here.” He squeezes Harry’s waist. “Those strings aren’t going anywhere, yeah? So when I’m moving, you should just… move along. Like the string’s pulling you along.”_ _

__Harry nods again, feet moving along with Louis’ lead. He keeps his eyes closed, even though it’s odd, dancing with your eyes closed. He can still feel the weight of Louis’ eyes on him, but he can’t reciprocate. He wonders what his expression is revealing; if Louis can see through his nerves to the desire that lies beneath._ _

__The air in the room feels more dense, and he could swear that Louis’ touch is burning through his clothes. Feeling just how much his skin wants it._ _

__“Doing good,” Louis says, and Harry fumbles immediately at the sound of his voice. He’s still so close, and so warm. And despite being overheated, Harry wants to burrow in closer._ _

__Louis doesn’t seem disturbed at all, just carries on moving them. Harry's pounding pulse soon quiets down and can almost enjoy the feel of Louis’ hands on him._ _

__It would be even better if Harry could see him, though. But then he might inadvertently fall into Louis and plant his mouth on his which would certainly be frowned upon in a room full of strangers and Louis’ apparently very serious long term girlfriend._ _

__So he keeps his eyes closed. Savoring the feel of Louis’ breath against the shell of his ear, the way his grip is tight and unwavering. Harry couldn’t say what the beat is, but he could probably write an essay based on the way Louis smells. At one point, the tip of his fringe grazes against Harry’s face, and he catches his breath. He almost wishes they would leave a mark, just so he’d know where to press his fingers at the memory._ _

__By the time Harry opens his eyes, he notices they’ve traveled across the dance floor, to one of the corners. He hadn’t even noticed that they weren’t remaining static, Louis steering them confidently and with ease._ _

__His cheeks ache from the smile that spreads across his face._ _

__“Not too bad for a party crasher.” Louis has a sparkle in his eye. “Might make a half decent dancer out of you yet.”_ _

__“I’m not-- I never said I could dance.” They’ve slowed down to a crawl, both of Louis’ arms around his waist now. The press of his forearms burning against Harry’s sensitive skin._ _

__Their movements are in stark opposition to the music, which beats on while they’re swaying easily. If he leaned in a bit more his nose would nudge Louis’, and a bit more and their lips would touch. The muscles in his neck twitch, wanting to move closer, and he has to shake himself out of the thought._ _

__“Didn’t mean it as an insult. Takes some guts, I think, to crash a staff dance party when you don’t even know how to dance.”_ _

__“I’m sorry.” Harry blinks, feeling suddenly out of place. He doesn’t actually belong here, with the staff. Despite Perrie calling him love, despite Niall easily bending his rules for him. Despite how easily Louis wrapped him around his finger._ _

__“Hey.” Louis squeezes him tight around the hip, until he looks up. “Don’t worry about it, if you could pass for a professional it would be an insult to all our hard work, wouldn't it?”_ _

__Louis winks at him._ _

__It startles him. That’s the only excuse Harry has as to why he steps away, breath stuck in his throat. That was definitely flirting. Louis is definitely flirting with him. With Perrie in the room. And frankly, if Harry hadn’t stepped back, there would have been no holding him accountable for what came next. His neck and shoulders stiff from keeping himself away._ _

__“You okay?” Louis asks, letting his arms drop. He doesn’t sound cross, at least._ _

__“Yeah, yeah, just. Hot, you know.”_ _

__Louis nods, and pushes his shoulder playfully. “Of course. Lauren’s promised me a dance, anyway. Go find Niall and get some more melon before all these savages finish it off.”_ _

__Louis steps away, and quick enough a girl Harry can only assume is Lauren is in Louis’ arms. Her black hair in a tight ponytail that fans into the air as they spin._ _

__Niall finds him before Harry has a chance to look for him. As if he’s been waiting for his and Louis’ dance to end, watching from the sidelines._ _

__“Last one,” he says, offering Harry a plate with a disfigured slice of melon._ _

__It’s room temperature now, and Harry can taste the cheap vodka. He grimaces as he swallows it down; needing it. He’s not quite drunk enough, but he still feels lightheaded. Like his chest is about to burst with air. He needs more._ _

__“Didn’t get to experience the Tommo Twist, did you?” Niall asks around his bottle. Niall seems to be smirking, but Harry has no idea._ _

__Harry looks back at Louis._ _

__Louis twists Lauren around, and she careens away from him, skirt fanning out around her hips. She seems to know exactly when to return to him, safely tucking back against Louis’ chest. Harry’s stomach clenches at the ease with which they’re moving. Harry wants that to be him. He wonders what the two of them looked like, swaying on the floor. Nothing like the professional dancers Louis and Lauren look like right now, that’s certain._ _

__“I think that’s a bit above my skill level.”_ _

__Niall shrugs, “Dunno mate, didn’t look half bad. ‘sides, Louis is capable of getting anyone to dance proper.”_ _

__“Right.”_ _

__Perrie sashays up to them, joining hands with Lauren for a bit. They sway together while Louis claps to the beat, urging them on. Even as dark and cramped it is, Harry can’t evade the bright smile Perrie flashes at Louis._ _

__“They look really great together.” His throat feels a little tight._ _

__“You’d think they were a couple, wouldn’t you?” Niall nods at Louis and Perrie on the dance floor. She’s taken over for Louis, pulling Lauren flush against her as they grind to the rhythm._ _

__It takes a moment for Harry to process what Niall said. The sound in his ears coming to a roaring stop. He remains calm as he asks, “They’re not?”_ _

__Niall pulls the bottle away from his mouth, lips rounded. “Oh... no. Not even close.”_ _

__“Oh,” Harry breathes out, all air going out of him, while his feet take root to the floor. “Oh.”_ _

__Niall claps him on the shoulder, and plucks the half eaten slice of melon from Harry’s grip. “I’ll get you another beer, yeah?”_ _

__Harry nods to that, only to realise Niall’s already left him._ _

____

❋ 

Harry’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat when he gets back to the cabin. His skin is still buzzing, and when he rubs his arms he can feel each hair standing at attention.

Definitely a successful outing.

He’s infinitely grateful for his ensuite, stepping into the shower as soon as he’s discarded his clothes, hanging them over door so they can dry. He suspects his shirt is ruined, but he can’t be bothered with that right now. 

The water is tepid; not cold enough to shock his system, but cool enough to calm his nerves.

He’s still thrumming from the party, and if he closes his eyes he can picture Louis’ face, the way he was stood so close. Close enough that Harry could map out the freckles on his cheek, could count his thick eyelashes and each hair in those perfectly arched eyebrows, and fuck. He wants to be that close again. 

He’s half hard just thinking about Louis’ _eyes_ , and it’s easy enough for him to work himself to full hardness with the memory of his skin glistening, the sweat beading at his forehead. The way his breath came out wet and sharp against his skin.

Harry knows he’s crossing a line, doing this. But he’s too tired to stop himself. The water will wash any trace of his transgression away. 

He thinks of the way Louis’ smaller hands confidently pushed against his back. How it didn’t even matter that he was slighter; he still managed to steady Harry easily, and lead him across the dance floor without disturbing any of the other dancers. 

Louis had been so easily in command, not hesitating for a moment. He’d whispered his instructions to Harry, his breath hot against Harry’s ear. His fringe brushing against his earlobe-- he can’t remember ever actually feeling anything against his earlobe before, but this… just the slightest touch and Harry was shivering. 

The thought of that -- Louis’ breath hitching against his ear, has Harry leaning his head against the tile. Would that have happened if Harry kissed him? Would Louis have been caught off-guard, breath dying in his throat, or was he expecting it? Had he been disappointed that Harry hadn’t made a move?

The water pounds against the back of Harry’s neck, cool on his back and sluicing between his shoulder blades. Louis had caught his breath with a hiccough just from them dancing. What other sounds could Harry coax out of him?

He grips himself harder, thumbing at the head of his cock.

He’d be coming faster if he hadn’t had so much to drink, but he doesn’t mind the slow pace. It’s giving him more time to visualize Louis’ face, his neck, the hollow of his throat. The way sweat would pool there as they moved together...

Louis’ shirt had dipped low enough to reveal matted chest hair, and Harry just wants to lick the skin, feel the hairs against his tongue. Suck until Louis writhes uncontrollably. He wants to trace his collarbones with his teeth, anchor bruises below them, where they could be seen if Louis wore a loose shirt again.

“Fuck.” Harry grunts, fist clicking as he jerks himself. The water eases each stroke, and he squeezes tighter when he hits the base.

He pictures Louis’ open mouth, and shiny eyes. The way his forehead would knot up if Harry had his mouth on him. The way Harry could make him lose control. 

Another grunt escapes his mouth, and he speeds up his strokes, fist slick with water and the friction just right. He tries to picture what it would look like if Louis were with him, right now. If he were the one touching Harry’s cock. Would he be speaking? Muttering curses or praise? Or would his throat run dry, mouth open and slack. Would he jerk himself off at the same time, or wait until Harry came, only to put on a show for him?

What Harry thinks he knows: Louis’ delicate fingers would wrap around him, working him with certainty. He’d probably tease Harry, press his nail against his slit before gently wrapping his hand around Harry’s shaft. 

He might kiss Harry breathless, and twist his wrist with the same certainty he twisted on the dance floor. Harry tenses his arse at the thought, trying to keep himself from thrusting into his fist.

With just the right twist and squeeze, he comes, splashing against the wall. He’s panting loudly, and a shiver racks through him. His eyes are heavy, and he soaps up quickly before stepping out of the shower and falling into bed.

❋ 

When Harry gets up, Gemma informs him that the main house has stopped serving breakfast. Being a merciful sister (her words), however, she snuck out a plate of baked goods for him, and he picks at a strawberry danish while he waits for his tea water to boil. 

He takes his breakfast outside, hoping the sunlight will awaken him and motivate him to actually do something with his day. 

He grimaces when he swallows down his hot tea, nearly scalding his throat. He feels dazed, still. Almost hungover, but not quite. He didn’t have enough to drink for that. If anything, it’s a Louis-hangover, his stomach coiling at the memory of them swaying close together.

“Someone had a late night, didn’t they?” Gemma teases as she plops herself down next to him on the porch swing.

She has a tall glass of ice tea, and Harry scoffs at her. “That can’t possibly be iced tea, can it?”

“When in Rome, little one, when in Rome. It’s not so bad. Bit sweet, but that seems par for the course.”

“I’m taller than you.”

She purses her lips and squints at him. “Debatable.”

He takes another sip of his tea. It settles heavily on his tongue, and okay. It might be the water, but it just doesn’t taste as good. He’s not going to be drinking sweet tea anytime soon, but he might have to switch to something else. Iced coffee, perhaps? Less of a blasphemy.

Gemma is still holding on to her book, thumb holding her place halfway through. She doesn’t seem inclined to open it up again.

“Got any plans for today?”

“I would read, but if I keep going at this speed I’m going to finish all the books I brought with me by the end of the week.” 

“Maybe you could write an article? Get some work done?”

She picks at one of Harry’s napkins, tearing off a strip and putting it in her book as a bookmark. 

“Isn’t much to write home about though, is there? Literally, and figuratively. A bit too idyllic for a riveting piece of journalism. M’not sure who I could pitch a story about a fairytale resort.”

“M’sure you could find something. Might be a dark underbelly to the place,” he suggests.

“You mean like this place having a pool _and_ a beach but no library? Reckon they need to rethink their priorities.”

“I guess that’s something to write home about.” He shrugs.

“And that, my dear Hazza, is why I’m a journalist and you’re not.”

He ignores her jibe, says, “So you’re not reading, is what I’m gathering.”

She shrugs, says, “Well, I was thinking of finding the beach. See what’s up over there. And then lunch with mum and Robin of course. You’re not getting out of that one.”

“I wasn’t trying to get out of breakfast.” 

“Oh, I know, you got back quite late.” She waggles her eyebrows, and Harry goes hot immediately. At least the shade should be covering up any blush he might be showing. “You still owe me the full story, you know. Seems like you figured out where to go for a good time. That’s the cost of breakfast, bro.”

❋

The beach is nice. It’s nothing special, really. The sand is grainy, almost pebbled, and the water looks dark. Harry's not sure what he expected but considering the rest of the grounds, it wasn't this.

“S’not much different from the beaches back home, is it,” Gemma says, wandering into the water. “Bit warmer, though.”

Harry’s slipped on his trunks, but the water isn’t quite tempting enough to wade in. He tries to settle in on their beach towel, watching Gemma wander into the lake, her fingers skating across the surface. 

She’s easy to spot from afar, large droopy straw hat and hot pink bug eye sunglasses that she stole from him with the claim that they complimented her facial shape more. Which is ridiculous, since they have the same facial shape. 

A group of children are making a sand castle to his left, struggling to cake together the sand properly since it’s too dry. 

“Use your bucket to make a tower, Alfie,” their mum says. The boys use their fists to fill the bucket with sand and tip it over carefully. There’s nothing but a pile left when they move the bucket, grains spilling away from the mould.

One of the boys uses his hands to scoop the sand back onto the pile, holding it up so that it’ll stay. Once he moves his hands the tower crumbles again. 

“You need to add more water,” Harry suggests, and their mum, “Not that that doesn’t look like a lovely tower. Very architecturally innovative.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means it’s unique, sweet pea. That’s a good thing.” The boy, Alfie, beams.

“Thank you!” The other boy says, eyes wide and unblinking. He elbows Alfie, who drops into the sand dramatically. “Say thank you!” Alfie obliges from where he’s laying down. 

“You’re quite welcome.” He turns to their mother, says, “Very polite these two.”

“You talk funny,” Alfie adds, and his mum starts to laugh. 

“Now that wasn’t too polite, was it?” Their mum gently scolds him. He rolls his eyes.

“It’s true!”

“Everyone speaks like me back home. If you went to England you’d be the one talking funny.”

“No!” the kid exclaims, outraged. His mum laughs.

“It’s true. People speak differently all over the world, you know.”

“I’m bored, I wanna go play mermaids,” Alfie says. “Will you watch our sandcastle, Mister?”

“Not a problem, I’m a proper sandcastle enthusiast.” 

“Thanks Mister!” 

The other boy frowns and crosses his arms, scrawny arms barely covering his chest. “I don’t know your name. Mom! He’s a stranger and we’re talking to him.”

She turns to him. “Well, that's Ariel and Alfie, and I’m Sarah.”

“Harry. My sister Gemma is in the water over there, with the massive hat? It’s a wonder she hasn’t tipped over yet, don’t you think?”

Ariel giggles, and hides his face behind Sarah’s arm. 

She tells him, “Now we know Harry, and he’s not a stranger anymore.”

“Can I get my seashell and my tail?” Ariel asks, having lost interest in the topic. Sarah digs into her large beach bag, plucking out a large plastic seashell, and children’s flippers. She also takes out a plastic trident, handing it over to Alfie while Ariel clips the seashell to his hair, and carefully puts on his flippers.

The boys don’t even say goodbye before hobbling towards the water. Sarah hurries, taking off her cover-up, dropping it next to their bags. 

“You don’t have to watch the sand castle. I promise the boys will have forgotten all about it by the time they come back out.”

“S’no problem, I swear.”

“Alright. Nice to meet you, Harry.” She jogs after the boys, grabbing each of their hands in hers, and swinging them as they walk into the water. Ariel and Alfie bob happily on the lake, their squeals carrying over to where Harry's sitting.

Distraction over with, Harry scans the beach for more familiar faces. Gemma seems to have vanished, her hat no longer visible among the figures in the water. 

He still feels a bit out of place, all alone on his beach towel while couples and families lounge around him. There’s a few single people, but they all seem to be sleeping in lounge chairs. He didn’t bring his reading with him, just his phone, and he hasn’t sprung for a US phone plan yet so it’s useless.

His face feels hot, so he takes the opportunity to freshen up his sunscreen. He smears large swaths over his shoulders, leaving white smears behind. Better to be safe than sorry. He does his best on his back, fingers slipping over the top of his shoulder blades. 

He stays alert, scanning the crowd, and senselessly expecting to see Louis. He knows it’s pointless because, duh, there’s no reason for Louis to be here. There’s no dancing on the beach. Unless he wanted a resistance challenge with the sand. His mouth tugs at the visual, and he heaves a sigh.

Harry starts working on the wreckage of the sand castle. He uses his water bottle to wet the sand, packing it high and tight. Using the tiny plastic shovel left behind he starts digging a moat to surround the castle, scooping the sand into one of the buckets. He can use the sand for another tower, maybe. 

“You’re gonna need some flags for that.” Harry squints up at Niall who salutes him.

He doesn’t wait for an invite to drop down next to Harry, studying his work on the sand castle. 

“That’s some nice structural work, right there. Sturdy. Should survive into night as long as no one topples onto it.”

“Didn't expect to see you here. A real multitasker, aren’t you?”

Niall sheets shrugs. “I go where 'm needed.” As if that was explanation enough. 

“And you’re here as a sand castle reviewer?”

Niall cackles, “Nah, mate, I do wish though that would be sick. Could add that as a feature in the newsletter. And on my resume.”

“There’s a newsletter?”

Niall smiles broadly, like he’s about to reveal he’s just pulling Harry’s leg. “‘F course. How else will we keep our regulars up to date on what’s happening at Chateaux Corden's year round?”

He’s still not certain whether Niall’s joking or not, but it seems unnecessary to prod further. 

“You seem awfully perky for someone who was tap dancing on the tables last night,” Harry comments.

“Don't recall that, you must be thinking of some other charming Irishman.” Niall winks. 

Harry waits for a beat before asking, “So uh, is that a regular occurrence then? The staff parties?” He lets the dry sand sift through his fingers as he shapes the moat. 

“Got your party appetite whet, did ya? S’funny, didn’t seem to be doing much raging last night.” Niall teases with a shoulder bump. Harry shrugs, resolutely does not look at Niall. He already knows Niall’s picked up on his slight fixation with Louis. He doesn’t want to prove him right.

Harry makes a noncommittal sound, uncertain of what to say. Somehow, Niall accepts it.

He squints at Harry, “Nah, mate. I'm on the clock. Was a rare occasion for me. ‘sides It’s a little too conspicuous to do it every night. might rouse suspicion from nosy guests. Can’t be getting caught and blackmailed in letting them attend.” He winks at Harry cheekily.

“Of course.” He pauses. “Sounds very bad for business. Especially if they win the hearts of the crowd and their presence is expected in the future.” 

“Indeed,” Niall says seriously before poking at Harry’s shoulder. “You’d be welcome back in a heartbeat. I’d be hearing non stop complaints otherwise.”

 _From whom?_ Harry wants to ask, but there’s no guarantee Niall wasn’t just going along with his joke. And if he wasn’t, Harry doesn’t want to be obvious about it. 

“What are they having you work on then, tonight?” He tries to keep his voice light. His curiosity will have to stew in the pit of his stomach for a while longer. 

“Actually getting started soon. Setting up for a lakeside screening.” He claps his hands together in delight. “You should come! Always a good time. Could use a crowd, not sure if many people will show.”

“Everyone loves movies, no?”

“Yeah, well. We’re doing a silent movie this time.” Niall’s nose wrinkles when he says it, as if in apology. He rubs the back of his neck. “Not my choice.”

“That’s an interesting choice I guess?” 

“Yeah, well. People already have tellys and ipads and laptops, right? They can watch whatever they want to. This is more of a unique thing. Not quite sure if it’ll work out that well though so. Please come.”

His expression is pleading. It’s not necessary; it’s not like Harry has any plans anyway. He can probably drag Gem along, sounds right up her alley. 

“Sure. Lakeside as in here?” 

“Yeah, mate,” Niall says, squinting into the distance. He gestures towards the edge of the beach, where a large patch of grass makes way to the woods. “Right over there.”

“When does it start?”

“Right after sunset. But if you come earlier I can hook you up with the best folding chairs and some drinks.”

Harry laughs. “No need to sell it, mate, I’ll be there.”

“Right,” Niall says with a deep breath. “Think it’s time for me to check on Lauren’s lifeguard supplies.”

He gets up, carefully dusting off his white shorts of any sand particles that might be clinging. He looks completely proper, polo shirt still crisp and fresh. 

Before he walks off, he digs into his back pocket, taking out a couple of drink umbrellas emblazoned with the resort log. “This’ll do as flags, yeah?”

“Perfect,” Harry says and takes them from him. They sink easily into the sand towers. 

Gemma returns not long after Niall’s left. She takes one glance at the castle before deciding that it’s seriously lacking decoration. Working alongside him she adds pebbles to the other side of the castle. 

“You don’t have to worry about Taylor, by the way. I told her you like the chase. So I suspect she’ll be keeping her distance until you make a move.”

Harry blinks, asks, “When?”

“Saw her at brekkie. S’just as well that you didn’t come, she was quite eager to talk to you I think. Even listened to Robin go on about how the NHS is different from whatever they’ve got going here. Her eyes were twitching nonstop because she didn’t want to interrupt him, I think. It was a proper riot.”

His eyes widen, and he exhales, lower lip vibrating with the force of it. “Thank you.”

She shrugs. “Not a problem, baby bro,” she says, attempting an American twang. It’s not all too terrible. 

“Wait. Does this mean I owe you something now? I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“You always owe me, that’s the price you pay for having such an amazing sister.”

He pushes the drink back to her, says, “I guess this was a bribe then wasn’t it? You can’t bribe me.”

“I just want to do something fun tonight. Mum and Robin are having one of their moonlit romantic evenings which, no, I do not want to be at the cabin when they return from that. There are some things I do not need to see.” She grimaces, and Harry can’t help but mirror it. Yeah, no. If he hadn’t already planned on being out he’d certainly be trying to figure something out as well.

“I know you were out doing something exciting last night. Just take me with you this time.”

He shrugs, schooling his features carelessly. It doesn’t matter that there’s no party tonight, he doesn’t quite want to reveal just how much fun he’d had. 

“Well, there’s a film screening at the lake tonight. You might like it, actually, it’s a silent film.” 

She narrows her eyes at him, undoubtedly suspicious that he completely ignored her point about last night. But he’s promised Niall that he wouldn’t spread it around, and while he trusts Gemma he also doesn’t quite want to share that. Not yet. There’d be too much explaining to do. And he’s not sure he can keep a poker face while discussing the night.

She doesn’t say anything though, nods and cheers him with her glass. “Perfect.”

❋

Both Robin and Anne have flushed faces when Harry and Gemma see them at the cabin. They pretend not to notice. Just like they ignore the fluffy dressing gowns they’re wearing. They still feel obligated to ask Anne and Robin if they want to join. As expected, they don’t particularly care to. 

Robin makes the refusal difficult as he keeps adjusting his sash before stuffing his fists in his pockets. Anne poorly holds back giggles as she gathers a tote bag, tossing bottles of water in there and socks and a book -- clearly things they won’t be needing at all, just busying herself as she babbles about the spa menu they opted for.

It’s enough to make Harry and Gemma turn their heels quickly without gathering any provisions or getting changed. 

“I can’t believe the time has come for mum to scar me for life. I’ve been such a good daughter, too. They were so well behaved at the wedding.”

“Must’ve been enticed by the honeymoon offerings.”

Gemma has a full body shudder, eyes snapped shut and mouth twisted upward at the corners.

“I had no idea you were so queasy, that’s your future you know,” Harry teases. Gemma narrows her eyes at him.

“Honestly, Haz, I know you’re just saying this to annoy me, you’re just as freaked out as I am.”

He shrugs with one shoulder, unwilling to concede. “Would make for a good freelance article, wouldn’t it? ‘I third wheeled on my parent’s honeymoon and this is what I learned’? Middle aged romance observed from a twentysomething, sounds insightful.” 

Sounds like something he would read, but Gemma stares at him as if he’d suggested she should move into the woods and forage berries and hunt wild animals for food. Although, that’s not an all too crazy idea; she could easily do a Thoreau. A Brit in America recreating an American classic. He’ll have to suggest it to her when she’s not quite so mad at him. For now, her frustration too entertaining not to keep poking the wound.

“You’re a proper arse, aren’t you? All the bad traits just flocked to you.” 

He laughs then, unable to contain himself. Gemma busts out an outraged, “Honestly!” a couple times as they walk to the beach, and each time Harry bursts out laughing. He has tears in his eyes by the time they get there. 

With the blip in their plans, they arrive early enough to have two nice chairs reserved for them by Niall. The screen is set up and Niall seemed to be performing an acoustic show for the people that had gathered earlier. He winks and waves when he spots them, and they don’t have to walk far to get to the seats with the reserved signs. There’s bags with snacks and bottles of water by their feet. 

“Bless,” Gemma says as she opens up one of the cracker bags.

Harry still hasn’t figured out what Niall’s job was exactly. He seemed to have his fingers dipped in every pot. 

Harry tries to sneak a few glances around, to see if Louis is there, maybe, but he comes up empty. He recognizes a couple of staff members from the party, and Lauren is still there in her lifeguard outfit, with an added windbreaker against the breeze. 

He can feel Gemma’s stare burrowing into the side of his face. Which makes him focus on Niall instead. The crowd thickens as he plays, and he encourages people to sing along.

It’s not a good enough distraction for Gemma though, who asks, “Alright, bro, so who has you all distracted?” She punctuate her words with a punch to his shoulder. Gemma looks around the beach, her graham cracker between her teeth.

Of course, this is payback for his earlier teasing. He shrugs, opening his water bottle, and downing half in one go.

Gemma still appears suspicious. “How’d we get this special ‘reserved seats’ treatment, anyway?” She arches one of her eyebrows. 

Harry nods towards Niall, who’s finished playing and is putting his guitar away, zipping up the soft cover.

“So it’s the blond?” She looks a bit shocked, continues, “Didn’t quite take that for your type but alright.”

“His name is Niall. And absolutely not. He got us the seats because we’re friends.”

She sucks in her cheeks. “Right, friends.” She leans back in her chair, crossing her legs. Her flip flop is barely hanging onto her toes. “I mean the singing I get I suppose, you did always like a good show pony.”

“How would you know what my type is anyway?”

“Well, I have known you your whole life. Must count for something.” She glances towards the stage, and he spots Niall walking in their direction. Gemma’s pinches her lips with delight. “Are you going to introduce me?” 

“Don’t really have a choice, do I?” He mutters and she elbows him in the ribs before opening up one of her snack bags.

Niall waves at them happily, and squats next to their seats, guitar case casually slung over his shoulder. “Hiya.”

“Gemma, this is Niall. Niall, my sister.”

“Right-o, with the leopard print suitcase?

“That was Harry’s actually,” she says and Niall laughs, slightly out of breath.

“Well. I was going to compliment you on your taste, but I suppose that should go to you, eh?” He squeezes Harry’s knee.

Harry can practically feel Gemma’s stare on his knee. As if Niall groped his arse in public.

Niall continues, “How’s this for good placement? Perfect view of the screen, but far enough away that you can gossip about everyone. And even sneak away if you get bored.” 

Niall winks at Gemma, and she bites down on her lip, undoubtedly holding back on a snarky comment.

She settles for, “Very good, yea. S’nice that… we have someone looking out for our interests. Isn’t it, Haz?” 

“My pleasure.” Niall beams, and the way Gemma’s brows are arched… Harry’s never going to escape her teasing now. If only he could choke on air and be left out. 

“Where’s everyone else?” Harry asks, clearing his throat, trying to be subtle, but Niall tilts his head at him.

“Who? There’s lots of people around. This is a good turnout mate, don’t make me feel insecure.” 

“Oh, no, yeah there’s lots of people, just--”

“You asking for someone in particular?” Niall asks with a smirk. He rests his chin on his fist.

Louis. He wants to know where Louis is. It’s on the tip of his tongue. Gemma is looking at him curiously as well.

“Well you know, I thought maybe Perrie would be here.”

“Nah, she and Louis have a performance at the Grand. Doesn’t hurt to supplement your income where you can. If they’re not working the resort they’re usually performing elsewhere.”

He tries not to sound deflated, his chest caving in slightly. It’s not a big deal. It’s just one night. There’s absolutely no reason for him to be so discouraged. “Oh, okay. I guess.”

Niall’s face falls a little. “Perrie, huh? Didn’t realize you were interested.”

Harry doesn’t respond, but Gemma sees right through the question. 

“Who’s Louis?” Gemma addresses Niall kindly before pinning Harry with a pointed glance.

“Oh, he’s one of the dance instructors.” 

“Dance instructor?” Gemma’s tone lilts. One eyebrow arching.

“He’s real good, if you’re looking to polish your flamenco moves. Or even ballroom dancing, tango… I’m sure he knows salsa too.”

“I think I’m all set actually, but I seem to remember a certain brother of mine terrorizing the dance floor during mum and Robin’s wedding. Couldn’t hurt to get you in tip-top shape.”

“In shape for what?” Harry asks, outraged. 

She cocks her head to the side, mouth tugging down. “You never know.”

“Alright, I think that’s enough secret sibling speak for me,” Niall excuses himself getting up with a grunt, hoisting the strap of his guitar case higher on his shoulder. “Enjoy the film, yea?”

They promise to, and watch him walk off to join the rest of the staff, a few of whom Harry recognizes from last night. He’s actually impressed that he remembers all of these people when his brain seemed to be screaming about Louis nonstop.

He thinks he’s home free until about halfway through the film, when Gemma bumps her shoulder against his.

“S’that who you were with last night? Lou-ie?” The speed at which her attention shifted from Niall to Louis is alarming. He should’ve known better than to include her in his nighttime plans.

“I should’ve left you at the cabin with mum and Robin. Can’t take you anywhere, can I?”

“That’s a yes, isn’t it?” Her smirk expands to a full smug smile. Christ. 

“No.”

“Oh? Then when did you meet this brilliantly talented dancer? ‘Ve been with you all day you know.”

“He was there last night but I wasn’t like, with him. Just. Around. We only spoke a little bit.”

“Ah, well a little is all it takes, innit?”

He can feel a blush creeping up on on his cheeks, he stares resolutely at the screen. Hoping the dusk light will conceal his profile enough that Gemma won’t notice.

“You know what you need to do don’t you?”

Stonefaced, he turns her way. He wants to know, really. But he doesn’t want to encourage this type of behaviour, really. 

“It’s so obvious, dance with him and you know, seduce him.”

“I can’t dance,” he says, resignated laughter in his voice. “That’s the whole problem.”

“Okay well, I'm sure the act of _teaching_ is erotic. Just have him instruct you.” She waggles her eyebrows, and sticks her tongue out.

He groans and Gemma smacks his arm.

“Please never use that word again.”

“Would you prefer the word sensual? Because I think that applies as well.”

“Gemma. You know he’s teaching loads of people. So why would I be any different?”

“That’s not the right attitude to have if you’re to seduce a man. Confidence, Haz. Confidence is key.”

“I’m not a particularly confident dancer though, am I?”

“You’re just being difficult, now. I know you haven’t had a proper boyfriend but you could charm the pants off of anyone without making much of an effort. You’ve got this in the bag.”

The praise makes his chest feel full, and he’s not even sure he agrees with it. Not fully, at least. It just felt a bit different, actively pursuing Louis as opposed to pulling on a night out. She’s right; it was usually effortless for him, and usually not particularly premeditated. If he’d met Louis out, he probably would’ve pulled out all the stops. 

She must sense that he doesn’t want to say anything else. She pushes one of her crackers against his mouth, until he opens up and bites into it. 

“Anyway, shush, I’ve got to pay attention if I’m going to review this.”

❋

They’re all together for breakfast the next day, commandeering a small table in the dining hall.

Robin pours some coffee for Anne from the pot on the table, before tending to the others’ cups. He asks, “How was sibling time?” 

“Informative,” Gemma murmurs around her eggs. Harry resolutely does not stare her down, as it would be an invitation for Anne to pry further. 

Instead, he asks, “How was date night?” Anne’s face goes soft, and Gemma stares daggers at him.

“The spa was very relaxing. And they gave us dinner after!” Anne says, Robin nodding along. 

“They’d reserved one of the secluded gazebos and we were served at candle light, it was a delight. They managed to replicate our wedding menu!”

He listens as they continue to describe how the evening was set up. Anne at least seems much more and relaxed and at ease than earlier. Gemma seems on edge with every question, as if she anticipates one of them to overshare. It fills him with a delight to know that he’s inadvertently getting back at her for yesterday’s prodding.

“How will you be spending the day, dears? I think Robin and I are going out on a boat. Might even do some water skiing.”

“I’m gonna sign up for dance lessons,” he says, because he has no reason to lie. And also because there’s no way he can get away with not saying anything, as suspicious as Gemma is already.

Right on cue, Gemma’s head whips in his direction. “Oh, I thought you weren’t interested?”

She stares at him intently. He ignores her.

“That’s nice!” Robin says. “Should prove useful. It’s always a nice way to work out. The dance classes I took before the wedding were much more fun than I thought they’d be.”

“That’s not what you said then,” Anne teases.

“Well, had to pretend I wasn’t doing well so I could impress you.” 

His mum’s face softens, and she strokes Robin’s arm before they kiss chastely, both of their faces the picture of bliss.

Gemma might be onto something about dancing being a good seduction move. He can do this.

❋ 

Harry goes to the studio right after breakfast, partially not to lose his nerve, but also because he’s not certain if there’s any solo classes available. He can certainly try to go for a group class if he has to, although the idea of sharing Louis’ attention with others goes against the whole reason he’s doing this in the first place. He could be out of luck completely and Louis could be all booked up. 

There’s no reception or any signage aside from room numbers, so Harry wanders in, picking a hallway at random. He passes an open door, looking in to find Perrie instructing a group of children, most of them giggling as they curtsy in front of the mirrors. 

He can hear voices inside one of the rooms that have a closed door. It must be Louis’ class, since there’s nowhere else he could be. Harry feels a bit odd, lingering just outside and listening in, but surely it would be odder to go watch Perrie’s class of children practice? 

A laugh that Harry recognizes as Louis can be heard from inside the room, and Harry’s curious as to what’s happening. Trying not to think too hard about why he can so easily identify the sound. The door opens and a young woman comes out, smiling brightly. Louis is close behind her, mouth stretched wide as well.

His eyebrows quirk when he notices Harry, locking eyes with him. He drops his weight onto the hand that holds the door handle, shoulder slumping. 

“Make it a habit of loitering about, do you?” He asks, amusement twinkling in his eyes. He gestures for Harry to follow him inside.

“Don’t want to bother you,” he says, trying to train his eyes from Louis. It’s hard though, since Louis is staring right back. 

Louis’ in a loose grey vest and skinny sweats. Also a headband. He’s actually wearing a headband, pushing his hair back and loose strands grazing his ears.

“How can I assist you, Harry?”

“I want dance lessons.”

“Ah, the rhythm bled its way into your soul, did it? Penetrated your veins and now it’s inside you? Can’t get enough of that cha-cha?” He teases. His mouth is uneven as he speaks. He doesn’t close it when he’s done, and Harry can spot his tongue trapped between his teeth. As if he’s trying to hold himself back.

He can’t help the zip of excitement that spreads over his ribs. He rocks back on his heels, a sly grin spreading over his face. There’s no way this isn’t flirting.

“I suppose.”

“I can really hear the passion, it oozes off of you.” He grabs an ipad from the table next to the door. His eyebrows knit together as he swipes across the screen. “Perrie has a cancellation tomorrow, if that works?”

“No, no, I um. I want you.” Harry sounds decisive as he speaks, enough to get Louis’ head to tip up in his direction. Finger stilling on the ipad screen.

“Me?” The corner of Louis’ mouth twitches. Harry scratches at his jaw, fingers grazing the edge of his curls. He catches the way Louis glances to his fingers, and he tugs at his hair, trying to keep his attention there.

“Yes, I think, uh, I think it’d be useful for me to know how to lead but also how to follow. So like, yeah. And I already know you’re a good teacher.”

Louis narrows his eyes at him, hint of a smirk peeking through. 

“I didn’t teach you anything.”

“Maybe not on purpose. But it feels like you did.”

Louis bites down on the inside of his cheek. His thumb briefly pressing against his mouth before dropping again. 

“I’m not sure this is such a good idea.” Louis bites his lower lip, eyes boring into Harry’s. He’s being evaluated, he knows, but he’s not sure why. There are so many reasons that Louis might not want to have him as his student, it’s true. Harry wants Louis to say ‘fuck it’ to them all. 

He has to turn it into a challenge.

Harry asks, “Why? Is same sex teaching not allowed? Didn’t take you for such a stickler for the rules.”

Louis blinks at him slowly, and shakes his head. He pushes back his headband higher and some strands of hair fall out. He tucks them away, wrist flicking delicately. Harry could spend all day just watching him move. 

“Are you serious about this?” 

“Very much,” Harry says, licking his lip nervously. He can feel his forehead tensing with his frown, and he makes an effort to school his features. He’s trying to be serious, not intimidating. 

Louis’ still watching Harry carefully, and eventually taps his ipad. “Alright. Don’t make me regret this.”

“When can we start?”

Louis sputters out a laugh, says, “I have to check my schedule.” He waves his ipad at Harry.

“How about now?”

Louis mouth twitches into a grin, eyes crinkling. “I must say so far you’re the most enthusiastic student I’ve had all year. And we haven’t even started.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You’re giving me a lot to live up to, you know.”

“Well, I was told the dance instructors were the best in the tri-state area. Whatever that means.”

“I see you read the brochure.”

Harry shrugs. “‘Sides, don’t think I could be disappointed,” he says, and bites his lip. He didn’t actually intend for that to sound so flirty. Louis doesn’t seem bothered, smile still carved deep in his face. He pulls at the collar of his vest before looking through his schedule. 

“I’ve actually got a group lesson in ten. So no.” His eyes dart across the screen. “I’ve got an opening tonight though, but it interferes with supper.”

“That’s fine,” Harry says quickly, nearly stumbling over his words. “Supper’s overrated.”

“Putting you down for seven, then. That’s okay, yeah?”

Harry nods. He watches Louis write down his name, a spike of nerves hitting in his belly. In just a couple of hours he’ll be able to touch Louis, and be touched in return. They’ll have a legitimate reason to be pressed close. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to not explode from the anticipation until then.

❋ 

Harry’s worked himself up into a semi panic before his class, fingertips vibrating and throat tight. Mostly it’s Gemma’s fault.

Actually, it’s entirely Gemma’s fault.

She joins Harry for an early supper, because she doesn’t want to be left alone with the honeymooning sickening lovebirds (her words). It starts off normal enough, until she asks what Harry’s seduction plan entails. 

Apparently being himself isn’t good enough. She’s got plenty of ideas and presents them all as if he were some absolute clueless dolt. 

“I think you have to be bold.” She slurps her iced tea, squinting as she thinks, cheeks sucked in. ”Just grab him by the bum, yeah? And maybe nuzzle in close. Give his throat a lick.”

Harry sets aside his plate at that. Unfortunately Gemma looks serious, her eyes lit up like she’s discovered the secret to the universe.

“I’m not going to assault him with my tongue.”

“But how will he know you’re interested? Dancing is already intimate, you’ve got to make it... _Ultra_ intimate. Be bold and abundantly clear with your intentions.” She seems pleased with her suggestion. 

She has to be drinking a Long Island Iced Tea. 

She continues that way, even giving him lines to use. He has no intentions of listening to her at all. But a fleeting thought hits him; what if that’s what Louis expects? What if that’s why he was hesitant to teach Harry to begin with? What if expects Harry to sweep in and not let him actually do any teaching, just drop innuendo bombs left right and center. (Which frankly, Harry excels at, but he also does have a sense of tact. He doesn’t want to frighten Louis, or make him uncomfortable.) 

The nerves and excitement build to a hum just below his skin. He wants to scratch it out, but he knows it’s no use. It crests to a peak just before he leaves to meet up with Louis. He feels as if his skin is buzzing at an inhumane frequency. Like he’d be blurry if anyone took a photo of him.

And yet, as soon as he sees Louis, the buzzing quiets down. 

Louis smiles, warm and welcoming, and all the nerves summoned by Gemma’s chatter disperse, melt into a pleasant hum that settles in his chest. Harry’s pretty sure his face is about to split with his smile, Louis’ own growing to match his. He breathes out a weak, “Hi.”

“Hey.”

Just one word, and Harry scuffs his shoes against the door frame. “Hi,” he says again, and somehow Louis’ smile grows even bigger for a split second. He shakes his head before leading Harry into the studio, hand light against the small of his back. 

Harry’s chest is filled with air, and even the thought of having to dance and follow instructions can’t unsettle him. Louis is here to teach him, and it’s not like he can pretend that he’s better than he is. 

He has no doubt he’ll have a hard time memorizing moves, but he can’t imagine Louis getting worked up about it. If he spends time teaching kids, he must have some patience. The thought alone makes him picture Louis in front of a studio of children, and he holds his breath. He’s definitely… far too interested for his own good.

“We’re going to start you off with the East Coast Swing,” Louis says, walking over to the stereo. He takes out two boxes of CDs and they land heavily on the table.

“Swing?” he has no idea what that entails, but it sounds complicated.

“Yes.” Louis is unphased, continues plucking among the stacks, eventually finding what he’s looking for. He places it into the stereo, rubbing his hands together.

“Isn't that a bit hard? Sounds hard.” Perhaps Harry’s excitement for learning was a bit premature.

“Harry. Believe me when I tell you: I know what I’m doing, okay? Trust me.”

Harry nods at that. Utterly aware of Louis standing right in front of him. His vest gapes at the front, revealing the planes of his chest, and Harry’s mouth waters at the thought of seeing all of it.

Louis takes his hands, and leads him to a mark in front of the full length mirrors. “You need to learn the steps first, so we’re just gonna go over it and then see if you can lead me.”

Green Day starts playing. “Green Day?”

“I could change it to Bob Seger, but I think this is preferable, yeah? Your choice,” Louis says, and chuckles.

Harry laughs. “Yeah, no, this is good.”

“There’s five basic steps. We might be able to get through all of them today. Now. You asked to be the lead, so this is being a lead. You have to be soft, but firm. Your intentions have to be properly clear, yeah? They’re not suggestions, they’re more like, a roadmap. And well, not so important today, but in general, you’ve got to keep your eyes on the rest of the floor. You’re steering the ship, not commandeering it.”

Harry nods along to Louis speech, cradling his chin. “So I’m a GPS?”

Louis laughs, pleased. “That’s actually a great metaphor. Cause if your follow strays from the map, you’ve got to adapt to their moves and figure out some other good transitions.”

Harry can’t help it, he beams. And Louis definitely notices, from the way he shakes his head. He keeps his eyes level with Harry’s shoulder.

“Now, this is what we’ll do--” Louis takes Harry’s hand and guides him towards the mirror. He stands next to him. “We’ll both be moving to the music, watch yourself in the mirror.”

Harry’s glance flickers away from Louis’ face in front of him, and switches to his reflection. Louis looks bloody amazing, joggers tight around his bum, and his vest cut low on the sides. 

He focuses back on Louis’ voice.

“You want the weight on your right foot, and your left free. We’re taking four steps and then a rock step, okay?”

Louis starts stepping to the music, and counting out loud, Harry following suit. His eyes are fixed on Louis’ feet in the mirror, just trying to copy him. He can do this. He can totally do this. 

Louis must notice, because he stops, and moves behind Harry, remaining still. “Keep going.” 

He places his hands on Harry’s hips, righting them a bit, and then resuming his steps. He’s a hairsbreadth away, Harry can feel his breath on his neck. He tries to hold back a shiver.

“Don’t look at me, look at yourself. Don’t worry about the steps just imagine someone being in your arms right now, and you're in charge of steering them.”

They go through the basic steps, throwout and underarms throws and Harry’s not-- he’s not terrible. Louis wasn’t joking when he said he’d teach him to lead. Harry’d still expected to feel some resistance and steering from Louis, even though he was following, but no. Louis was pliable, and followed easily, simply stopping whenever Harry would cock up, instead of taking over.

They only do one dance together, Louis secured in Harry’s grip. “Just remember you’re my anchor, okay? I know you want to move more to the music, but you can’t thrash about. You’ve got to stay steady.”

It’s tricky, especially because Britney’s playing, and Harry’s itching to let loose properly. But no, he locks eyes with Louis, and tries his best to count the steps in his head.

“Don’t have to be quiet, Harry, we can count them together.”

So they do, both softly murmuring the count, and when the song ends Harry doesn’t want to let go.

By the end of their lesson, Harry’s cheeks hurt from how wide he’s grinning, and considering Louis’ own answering face he’s pretty sure Louis’ must hurt as well. 

By the time Louis ducks his head when they stop dancing, Harry’s decided he's all in.

“Reckon you’d like a free dance after all that structure? I could see you itching to let loose properly,” Louis suggests, and god. He’s absolutely perfect.

“Can we dance together, still?”

Louis mouth quirks, and he sweeps his fringe past his face. “Sure.” 

Louis seems to have another mix CD for this occasion, a wild mix of Brit pop and ABBA and obscure Eurovision songs. They work up a proper sweat, at one point singing through almost the entirety of ‘ _Take On Me_.’ 

They only stop when the music cuts off, and Louis shakes out his hair, fixing his fringe before dropping to the floor. He’s got a wide smile on, and he spreads his legs and stretches himself out. 

Harry’s perfectly happy watching that. 

Louis quirks an eyebrow at him, and Harry takes that as his cue to join in. Bending his knee and hugging it to his chest, and doing some easy arm stretches.

“Hey, you want to grab a bite? Since we both missed supper and all?”

“I told you to eat beforehand,” Louis reprimands, but his tone is soft. He’s avoiding the question.

“I did eat,” he says, although it was just a snack. “We’ve worked up an appetite now, though. And I know that you said we’d miss dinner but the restaurant is still open.”

Louis looks amused but makes no attempt to interrupt him.

“Sounds delightful, mate, but I can't.” Harry’s breath catches on the ‘mate’. At least it's not an outright rejection.

“You have to eat, Lou.” The nickname just slips out. Louis smiles fondly at him, not pointing it out.

“I have to work,” Louis says, but his eyes shift away. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, feeling a bit bad for even suggesting anything.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Louis asks, and he sounds almost hesitant. Harry likes to think he’s not imagining the regret in his voice.

❋ 

Harry’s woken up abysmally early by Gemma throwing a sweater in his face. “You’re not abandoning me again,” she shouts, far too close to his face.

“If you keep this up I’m gonna have to assume you’ve got something against love,” he croaks out, and Gemma looks utterly unimpressed.

“Did you forget all the stellar amazing tips I gave you last night? And how I’m essentially responsible for pushing you into Louis’ arms? I could charge for that kind of matchmaking expertise.”

“Felt more like sabotage to me, t’be honest.”

Gemma gasps, and picks up one of his pillows, throwing it at him. It thuds against his face with little impact.

“Ungrateful prick, you are.”

“Love you too,” he says, throwing the pillow back at her. 

“I’m keeping this,” she says, and backs towards the door. “Let’s see how well you sleep with only two pillows.” She slams the door behind her as Harry laughs.

The breakfast is is still overwhelming to Harry, probably because he’s been missing most of them. A full buffet spread out on tables that bracket the dining area. He takes three times as long as the others, who’ve already got their routine and favourites down. Harry goes to each tray, carefully studying the options available and trying to figure out how to balance his meal on his plate. 

There’s a mug of coffee already waiting for him at the table, The cup still hot to the touch. He fills it to the brim with cream, and adds two sugar cubes. 

“Tell us about your dance lesson, love,” Anne asks, and suddenly Gemma is winking very unsubtly at him from behind her own coffee cup. 

“Yes, Harry, do tell us about your dance teacher?” Gemma smirks in his direction. She mouths ‘payback’. Of course.

“Mum asked about the lessons, not about Louis,” he responds before pressing his mouth together tightly. 

“Oh, I didn’t know a man was teaching you. How interesting. I do want to hear about that,” Anne comments. Gemma quirks an eyebrow as she sips her coffee. He’ll have to get back at her somehow. 

“Is he any good?” Robin asks, and it gives Harry pause. ‘Good’ doesn’t quite cover Louis. 

“He’s splendid.” Harry probably sounds halfway in love with Louis just by those two words, but he doesn’t quite care. It’s the truth.

Robin’s mouth tugs down at the corners as he nods. “Certainly a ringing endorsement.”

“What’s so splendid about him?” Anne asks. She fluffs her eggs before bringing a forkful to her mouth. 

Gemma’s not speaking up for once, mouth pressed against the lip of her coffee mug. 

Harry clears his throat. He bites into a chunk of pineapple as he thinks. He doesn’t want to be overly obvious. “He’s very passionate. I think it’s obvious that he loves what he does quite a lot. He has these CDs for each lesson that he’s made himself.”

“CDs? Seems a bit outdated,” Robin comments. 

“Right, yeah. I mean. I asked him about it. And he said it’s the same CDs he used when he was a kid, and taught himself how to dance. So they’ve got sentimental value, I guess.” He could see Louis face clearly when he’d told him, the way he looked down, his smile wistful. The CD cases were all worn out, cracked and the inserts fading. The handwritten tracklistings blurred with age. 

“How romantic,” Anne says, with a contemplative tone. “Sounds like exactly the right person to teach you the art of dance.” 

“I think so.” Just thinking about Louis is making him feel a bit lighter. 

“The right person for something, that’s sure,” Gemma mutters, only loud enough for Harry to hear. He narrows his eyes at her and she shrugs. “I’m just saying.”

“Keep it to yourself, will you?”

“Hm. I’ll take that into consideration. Alright, considered it. I think I won’t.” She pops a grape in her mouth, sucking in her cheeks. “You can’t change me.”

He really should’ve known better than to tell her about anything, really. It was going to be a long, long day.

❋ 

By the time Harry goes to see Louis for his lesson he’s a bit stiff from the family excursion, and from the arched eyebrow Louis directs his way, it’s noticeable. Louis doesn’t comment on it, simply puts on the day’s mix which starts strong with Britney, and Louis seems to wait for Harry to challenge him.

“No more rock music?”

“Oh, there’s some Billy Idol and Black Keys on there, but Britney feels like a much softer lead in, don’t you think?”

“I do think,” Harry says, not even trying to hold back his grin. 

They get into the class easily, expanding on the previous lesson, this time Harry gets to lead Louis a couple of times. Only stepping on his foot once, and not stumbling a single time. 

Harry’s stiffness has mostly subsided by the time their lesson is over, fading into a deep seated muscle ache. He stays and shakes out his arms before pulling one tight to his chest, the pull in in his shoulder sharp and satisfying. 

This time Louis puts on music before stretching, as if he doesn’t intend to leave for a while. He doesn’t keep his distance, settling not too far from Harry to perform his own stretches.

“Bit stiff today?” Louis asks, watching as Harry tries to stretch out his hamstrings. “I didn’t realize I worked you so hard yesterday, could’ve told me to give you a break you know,” he says and Harry flushes. Louis can’t actually think that their mild lesson is why Harry’s having trouble moving properly today, can he?

“‘S not you. Went swimming earlier today with the family, it was a bit industrious.”

Louis’ eyes sparkle at that. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, since we’re all here together we all need to hang out you know?”

Louis nods. 

“It's nice, innit? Having your whole family here? Your parents bringing you along for the honeymoon?”

Harry blinks in surprise, if it’s a guess, it’s a good one. He’s quite certain he hasn’t mentioned anything. “I think they’re enjoying themselves, yeah. How’d you know?”

“Word gets around,” Louis says with a wink.

“Right. Then you probably know we’re being comped as well.” 

One of Louis’ eyebrows twitches. “That’s news. James friends with your parents, then?”

“My step-dad, yeah. I think they actually met here when they were kids. Been great friends for over two decades.”

Louis’ eyes widen, his mouth twinges. “That’s sick. Lifelong resort bond.” His gaze is intense, but Harry can’t break eye contact, his heart loudly drumming against his ribcage.

Eventually Louis sniffs, “Quite improbable.”

“Serendipitous.”

Louis laughs, eyes turning to slights, as he shakes out his fringe. “Serendipitous. Good word, that. Appropriate.”

“I think so.”

Louis seems to still at Harry’s serious tone. He leans back against his elbows. He looks so at ease, comfortable; it’s how Harry always wants to see him. He wants to save this moment and keep it close. 

“Tell me about yourself.” Harry’s almost surprised at himself for asking; but he wants to know, and it’s been bubbling beneath the surface long enough.

“Why?” Louis cocks his head. He seems genuinely surprised at the question, but not bothered. 

“You're teaching me how to dance, which is very intimate,” Harry says, serious frown on, and it coaxes a laugh out of Louis. Harry’s stomach flips at that. “Also you seem to know about me. That's not quite fair, is it?”

“You are quite obsessed with fairness aren't you, H?”

“I’m not going to deny that I’m curious, also. But I thought perhaps fairness would appeal to your innermost morals, your ethical compass. Or something of the sort.”

Louis falls back down, laughter erupting from his throat. “I’m impressed with how elaborate of a scheme that was. Well played.” He twists onto his side, cradling his head in his hand, observing Harry.

Harry shrugs. 

Louis continues, “Besides I don't actually know about you, just your stay here. We were told to treat you well because you're special guests. And you don't act like entitled knobheads and you're friends with James. And your parents are booked for all the couples’ activities. ‘s easy enough put two and two together.”

“Well that's… Impressive.”

Louis snorts. “Yes, I am capable of more than just dancing. Thank you for your vote of confidence.”

“No, that's not what I mean just-- some other people seem to think we're just pretending _not_ to be posh.”

Louis laughs. “That's the most cocked up thing I've ever heard.”

Harry shrugs, pleased with how at ease Louis looks. Their lesson technically ended about half an hour ago, and they’re not even pretending to stretch, but Louis hasn’t indicated that he wants Harry to leave. 

“Well, what do you want to know, exactly?” Louis asks, after a moment of silence. There’s a hint of curiosity in his voice which hits Harry square in the chest. 

“How’d you make it all the way over here from England? And why the Catskills? You’ve been here for a bit, haven’t you?” Harry asks, swallowing down the other questions he’d love to ask. Like do you like me? Are you single? How do you feel about summer flings that aren’t really summer flings? 

This is a bit safer.

“I went to uni here, and I stuck around.”

“You graduated then? Which school?”

Louis scratches the back of his neck. The muscles in his shoulders flex. His eyes seem a bit tense before he speaks. “No, I-- I dropped out, actually. Went to Juilliard for a bit.”

Harry’s breath catches in his throat. No wonder he’s so good. “That’s amazing.”

It must not be the reaction Louis expected because his hand drops down to the floor with a thud. He narrows his eyes at Harry. “That’s not usually the reaction I get.”

“What do you mean?”

“Usually as soon as the word ‘dropout’ is uttered everyone loses interest.”

“I’m not everyone.”

“Clearly,” Louis huffs.

“M’sure you had a good reason. It’s still amazing that you went at all. Like I know you’re good, obviously but it’s not like I’d know how good. Now I do. You could make it real big if you wanted.”

“I-- Yeah.” Louis stops himself from saying anything else, picking at his lip.

“You don’t have to tell me why you dropped out, if that’s a problem.”

“No, it’s just. No one really asks? I mean, Niall would’ve probably. But he was around when it went down so.”

“Clearly they’re all knobheads.”

A smile tugs at Louis’ mouth and he straightens his back. 

Harry considers this an in, and asks, “So, why’d you drop out?”

“Um, well. S’not a very creative environment? They were quite strict and you had to follow a specific curriculum and it was kind of stifling. And I was somewhat undecided between acting and dancing but you have to choose, according to them. And then I found out a lot of people who graduate don’t even work in the arts. Sot it just felt pointless. And it was bloody expensive.”

“So you went into teaching instead?” Harry asks as openly as he can, doesn’t want Louis to think he’s judging his choice.

“I mean, I needed to make money, you know. And this worked out. I’m still auditioning for stuff.”

“Around here?” Harry tries to keep the surprise out of his voice, but really that sounds… unlikely. Not like there’s much going on around here. 

Louis laughs. “No, in New York. I don’t work here year round, s’just a great steady income for the summer.”

“So you live in New York the rest of the time?” Harry’s pretty sure that’s what Louis means, but he needs to makes sure. His heart thudding heavily in his chest. If his plan works out, he won’t even have to worry about the distance between the city and here. They’ll be close to each other. They could have a chance. An actual chance. 

The possibility fills each of his cells, until he’s practically certain he’s vibrating with it.

“I do yeah. Got a place in Astoria.”

“I’m going to be staying in Brooklyn, I think,” Harry murmurs, and Louis features sharpen. 

“You’re staying? After your trip?”

He feels like Louis seems pleased by this news, but he can’t quite tell. Hasn’t yet managed to be confident about deciphering Louis’ facial expressions. He certainly hopes that’s what it means. But he can’t be sure.

Harry nods stiffly, not trusting himself to speak. 

They stare at each other in silence until Harry’s stomach grumbles, and Louis gives him a stern look. “Harold, what have I told you about remaining properly fed before class? You could have passed out cold from from exertion.”

“You would’ve caught me before I hit the floor,” Harry says with a small grin. He can’t help it. 

“Not if you landed on me, I wouldn’t have. You’re a right oaf, you know.”

Harry makes no moves to get up and leave. His stomach can grumble all it wants, he’s not letting Louis out of his sights for now. 

Louis uncrosses his legs and gracefully gets up, his muscles flexing as he does. He goes to his tote bag hanging on the door. He digs out a banana and a bottle of juice, tossing them both in Harry’s direction. 

“It’s a bit brown but still good. Get that blood sugar up a bit.”

“S’perfect, thanks,” Harry says and peels the banana quickly, and stuffs it into his mouth, keeping his eyes on Louis. Louis blinks and ducks his head, picking up his ipad, and staring down at it in concentration.

“Alright, this time slot’s taken tomorrow but I’m free at one,” Louis says, looking away from Harry. It has to be deliberate. 

He nods at first, before swallowing and shaking his head. “Oh, I’ve got a pedicure booked, actually.”

Louis’ eyes meet with his and he licks his lip. “Right. Me too actually, bad time.” He taps the screen with his finger. 

“Why’d you suggest it if you were busy?” Harry asks.

“Could have rescheduled it. Work is my number one priority.”

“‘Spose you need to maintain the moneymakers.”

“Something like that, yeah.”

Harry grins widely.

❋ 

Louis is already at the spa when Harry arrives in his flip flops. He looks as splendid as ever, loose jean shorts and a white band shirt. 

He’s chatting with the girl who’s manning reception. She has purple streaks in her black hair and a nose piercing. She shushes Louis when Harry approaches, and the offended look on his face makes Harry’s stomach flip. He wants to laugh. 

She’s expecting him, asking “Here for the one o’clock?” completely ignoring Louis. Harry nods. 

“I didn’t actually think you’d be here,” Harry tells Louis and he blinks. 

“You said it yourself, the money makers need upkeep.”

“Wait, you’re here for a pedicure too?” The girl asks Louis with narrowed eyes. “I don’t have you down for an appointment.”

“Must’ve slipped your mind. Or you forgot to hit save. I’ve got a standing appointment.”

She’s frowning as she flips through her calendar. “Yeah, and that was a couple of days ago?” 

Louis’ mouth is tight and he seems to be trying to stare daggers into the girl's’ skull. Harry's pretty sure Louis is blushing. Harry’s never felt more vindicated. 

“Right. Shall I seat the two of you next to each other then since there seems to be some banter of some sort going on?” Her eyes shift between the two of them, eyebrow arched.

“Sure,” Louis says, but it’s muffled. Harry has to stop himself from smiling wide.

“I kind of expected you to be here with your sister.” Louis says while their feet soak.

“Why? Can’t a bloke get pampered by his lonesome?”

Louis tips his head at him, gesturing at himself. “Please.”

Harry laughs, and Louis joins in. It’s nice. The two of them just sitting next to each other, getting pampered. 

“So what colour polish are you going for?” Louis asks as their estheticians start scrubbing their feet.

“I was thinking of just sticking with bare. A nice buff, that’s all.”

“That’s so dull,” Louis says, rolling his eyes.

“You don’t have any polish on!”

“Yeah, but I’m working, don’t think the big boss would be too keen on that. I think green would look good on you. You should let me pick so I can live vicariously through you.”

“Is that a rule then? No toe polish?”

The girl at his feet snorts, and Louis narrows his eyes at her. “It really isn’t.”

“But eavesdropping on conversations is certainly a rule, isn’t it Jade?”

“Never heard of it.” Jade sticks her tongue out at Louis and it shocks a laugh out of Harry. 

“Alright traitor.” He wriggles his toes in Jade’s grip before turning Harry’s way. “Harry, I’ll let you pick a colour for me if I get to pick yours.”

“Deal.” He sinks deeper into the chair, skin prickling with delight.

❋ 

Harry’s still buzzing from the high of spending an afternoon with Louis just bantering, for no other reason than Louis wanted to see him. 

Because that’s the only conclusion that Harry can come to, really. Louis crashed Harry’s pedicure because he didn’t want to go a day without him. 

Even Gemma can’t bring him down, as she plops down on Harry’s bed with a deep set frown and sigh.

“I’m bored,” she says.

“Why don’t you go bother mum and Robin?” He lifts his knee so she can shift on the bed.  
“And hear about all the romance that they’re experiencing? Sorry, but I’d rather chuck up dinner.”

“Come on, it’s sweet, you know you want that when you get older.”

“You only think it’s sweet because you haven’t had to witness it in the flesh, Haz. Too busy with your own summer romance. And they’re so caught up with each other they’re not bothered by you being away which is a right insult to me. 

“I’m not busy at all.”

“Right, so that’s why I’ve barely seen you aside from our scheduled family hangs?”

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Yes, and that is odd. Why are you here? Is Louis hiding in the wardrobe? Under the bed? Did I interrupt something?” 

She scrambles up from the bed, leaning over to look under it. She ruffles the bedskirt with a flourish before getting up.

“Perhaps he’s in the ensuite?”

Harry can’t stop laughing, his stomach cramping. Gemma is making a show out of tip-toeing towards the ensuite, kicking it open, as if Louis would be cowering inside.

“He’s not here. I saw him today already.”

“Oh really?” She emerges from the bathroom, an expectant look on her face. “Tell me everything.”

“We got pedicures.”

“Oh no, Haz. You must have scarred him for life with your freakish ogre feet. All the work you’ve done so far has been undone,” she declares dramatically. 

He rolls his eyes.

“I think he was fine. We picked polish colours for each other.” Harry wriggles his toes in Gemma’s direction. The turquoise looking a bit darker in the indoor lighting.

“You never let me paint your nails, this is an absolute betrayal. I can’t believe I have to find out on our last family holiday that you value your new crush more than your sister.”

“He didn’t actually paint them, you know.” He throws her a pillow so she can settle more comfortably on the bed.

“Maybe that’s just what I need to do. Take advantage of all the amenities, get pampered everyday.”

“Mhm, might be a good idea.”

“Mum’ll want to come though. And probably overshare about Robin’s romantic deeds.” She gags on air.

“It’s sweet.”

“Once again, you only think so because you don’t have to hear it. Gosh, imagine when they find out about your little crush, they’ll be bombarding you with romance tips.” She sounds giddy, voice high.

His throat tightens up and all the bubbles of laughter in his chest simmer down. 

“You can’t tell them, Gemma please.” He must sound even more panicked than he feels, because Gemma sits up. Her eyebrows furrowed and severe.

“Hey, no. I mean, a little teasing is all. Why are you so worried?” She stares at him intently. Harry pushed at a loose thread in his shirt. 

“I’ve never actually brought a boy home, you know. So they know, but just in theory. The reality might be a bit strange for them.”

“Christ, Harry.” She slumps back on the bed, hand covering her mouth. 

Harry feels exposed and a bit dumb. He hasn’t spent much time actually thinking about it but. But the truth is, yeah. It’s not that he’d avoided meeting anyone at uni, but really he’d almost been a bit relieved that he hadn’t had to bring anyone home. 

“But you like him then. You do actually like him enough that this is a concern.”

“I’ve only known him for a week.” He sounds bratty; he knows, but he can’t help it. 

“And nothing’s happened.” Gemma states, more than asks.

He shakes his head.

“And you’re still thinking about how mum and Robin would react. Haz. You’re in so deep. You have to make it happen.” She smiles bright and wide.

“Why are you like this?” He groans and she grabs a pillow throwing it his head. He catches it easily, propping it up behind himself. 

“Would you rather I send you off to a monastery? Here I am trying to get my baby bro a shag and all he can do is complain.”

“Christ.” 

“Clearly your dance moves aren’t seductive enough.”

In a sense this is true. He hasn’t really tried to be seductive during classes, too busy swept up in Louis’ presence. He’s been actually enjoying his lessons; enjoying learning and spending time with Louis. Laughing at his jokes and resisting the urge to slide his hands along his back.

But Harry doesn’t really want to do that, anyway. Making a move during a lesson would probably be presumptuous. The last thing he wants to do is put Louis on the spot.

“What exactly do you suggest?” Harry asks, and she bites down on her top lip, looking serious for once. 

“Well. I think the problem is the lessons. It’s a great way for you to get to know each other but he's clearly far too professional for his own good, or he would have seduced you already.”

“That’s assuming he’s interested.”

She blinks at him, forehead wrinkled with incredulity. “Harry Edward Styles. You’re not being cute right now.”

“Are you saying I’m cute otherwise?”

She looks up to the ceiling, exhaling loudly. “Christ give me strength.” Turning her attention back to him, she says, “I am genuinely trying to help you here.”

He schools his face, knitting his eyebrows together seriously. “Alright. Shoot.”

“You need to move things out of this professional teacher student standstill you're in. Enjoy it, but keep that for roleplay later.”

“Oh my god.” He grunts “You did not just say that, Gem. Please. You said you were being serious.”

“What? Roleplay can be very useful in a relationship. Keeps things from going stale. Great at reviving dying relationships. I wrote a piece about it.”

“Haven't even been a date yet and already our relationship is on life support. Splendid.”

“Oh, Haz. Baby bird. Gosling. Duckling. Bunny kit. You'll see.” She puts emphasis on her words, clamoring at him dramatically with each addition. He tries to twist away from her with no luck. “This is what you're going to do…”

❋ 

Gemma’s suggestion is simple enough: interact with Louis outside of their lessons. But do it in a way that Harry’s intent is crystal clear, yet not intimidating. It’s essentially the complete opposite of the earlier drunken tips she’d doled out, which according to her is because, “I didn’t realize you actually gave a crap, you know. I thought you just wanted a summer shag, not a proper romance.”

Which really, truly inspires plenty of confidence. 

After brainstorming for a bit, Gemma determines that the easiest approach is for Harry to go to Louis’ cabin. Something that he could probably come up with on his own, but he’s not particularly keen on angering her. 

“It would be in his comfort zone and secluded, and most importantly, it’d be outside of the realm of your professional relationship,” she says, trying to convince him.

He really doesn’t need convincing. What he needs, though, is her help scoring a full bottle of wine from the resort.

He keeps thinking back to Louis’ comment when they first met, about wining and dining him being the proper way to woo someone. Which… well, he can’t quite do much about dining, so he’ll have to settle for half of the deal, and really sell himself well. 

And certainly, no one would mistake a boy at your door bearing a bottle of wine for a platonic visit?

Gemma takes her role in the scheme very seriously, pleased that she knows exactly how to score them a bottle of the house Cab. It makes Harry wonder, briefly, how exactly she’s been spending all her downtime. He’s not bold enough to ask, though.

❋ 

The wine bottle is heavy in his hands as he wanders towards the staff cabins.

He’d found the staff accommodations on his initial walk through the grounds, he just wasn’t quite sure which one was Louis’. He could’ve asked Niall, but he didn’t want to inadvertently alert Louis to his intentions. Not that he didn’t trust Niall to keep a secret, but his loyalties lay with Louis, after all. 

“Harry, is that you?” A slightly shrill voice calls out, and Harry freezes in front of the first complex.

“Taylor, hi,” he says as he turns around. He almost forgets about the wine and goes to wave, only to stop himself.

Taylor’s eyes catch on though, and her smile widens as her eyes are reduced to slits.

“You know, I thought your sister was messing with you, but it seems I just needed to be patient.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Harry frowns. Taylor’s eyes seem to have locked in on the wine though and _oh._

“D’you have a picnic basket somewhere as well, or shall we dine in the main house?” Her intent seems clear as day as she sways on the spot.

“I don’t-- This isn’t for you.” Harry says, enunciating each word clearly. 

Taylor’s been stroking the fabric of her skirt between her fingers and she stills, face stiffening up. 

“I don’t think I follow.”

“I’m here to see Louis. Tomlinson.” There’s no point in hiding it, and Taylor blinks. Harry might as well go all out, so he asks, “You wouldn’t know which cabin is his, would you?”

Taylor laughs, covering her mouth and looking away before turning back towards him. “I’m sorry this is. This isn’t serious, is it?”

Harry’s stunned into silence, and maybe it looks like he’s contemplating it because Taylor cocks her head. “No, it’s. Very serious. I’d very much like to know which cabin is his.”

“Tomlinson. The college dropout. The--”

“I don’t think it’s quite your place to speak about him like that,” Harry bites back and Taylor goes silent for a beat.

“You know that breaks about ten different rules. He’d be out of a job come morning if I told anyone.”

“Didn’t seem to hold you back,” he counters, Taylor loses control for a split second, mouth dropping open before her jaw snaps shut. “And since I could easily just tell on you as well, I don’t see where your incentive is to speak up.”

She sucks in her cheeks, mouth pinched as if she’d just sucked into a lemon. 

Before she speaks up, he continues, “It’s not different. Except, well. For the case that I do actually want him.”

Her entire body tightens up at that, the tendons in her neck standing out. Still, she practically hisses out, “He’s in cabin eight.”

“Thank you,” Harry says, trying to keep the warmth in his tone. “Have a lovely evening.”

He finds cabin 8 easily, and doesn’t waste time loitering before knocking, taking a breath deep enough that his chest puffs out. He’s schooled a serious expression on his face when the door opens.

“Harry, hi.” Perrie seems just as shocked to see him as Harry is to see her. Although it’s not like he should expect anything else, coming over unannounced. She turns to Louis. “I didn't realise you had plans.” It rolls off her tongue easily, as it were a likely thing. It makes Harry’s insides warm up and he hopes it can be.

Harry can see the entire room from the door; it’s small with a bed and a small couch, and a small kitchenette, a kettle the only visible appliance. Louis is sat on the bed and gets up, a curious expression on his face.

Harry should be used to seeing him in casual wear, but he looks amazing always, the way his vest’s neckline scoops low on his chest and his collarbones protrude.

A line appears between Louis’ eyebrows as he approaches the door. “We're not--” he starts and his eyes drop to the bottle of wine in Harry's hands. He whistles, low and sharp, taking it from Harry’s hands. 

He inspects it carefully, reading the label. 

“Haven’t had a good glass of wine in eons,” Perrie says, and from the way Louis’ head whips towards her, it seems they both forgot she was in the room.

“We are splitting it, aren’t we?” She adds, and Harry nods, wrapping his hand around the back of his head. 

“Uh, yeah-- of course,” Harry says. It may not be what he had in mind, exactly, but he can always try to stay behind after Perrie, and with the wine in them already… it might be to his advantage.

“Are you sure you two don’t have plans?” Perrie asks again, this time with an arched eyebrow and hand gesturing between them. “If this is some ploy to get out of our discussion it’s pretty low, even for you.”

Louis tenses where he stands, teeth digging into his lower lip. “No, Pez.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” 

“S’alright, perhaps you can talk sense into this stubborn arse.” Perrie backs against the kitchen counter, crossing her arms.

“What’s the issue?” Harry asks. 

“I have an audition in two weeks. In New York.”

“That’s amazing! It’s amazing, right? That’s a huge deal!” Harry can’t help it, he strides quickly to Louis and wraps his arms around him. Louis pats his back, a bit of a shocked laughter erupting from him. But he doesn’t push Harry away, which should account for something. 

“Why aren’t you celebrating? We should have the wine now,” Harry says and glances between Louis and Perrie. Their expressions are less than pleased. 

“It’s just an audition H, nothing to celebrate,” Louis comments.

Still, that doesn’t make much sense. Harry continues, “But that’s still great news, but you look like it’s not.”

Perrie backs away from them, and drops down onto the sofa, grabbing a pillow and punching it down onto her lap. She’s challenging Louis with her expression. Louis looks away from her and taps his fingers against the table. 

“What?” Harry asks. He expected that maybe dropping in on Louis unannounced might lead to some awkwardness, but not this kind. He doesn’t quite understand what’s going on.

Perrie tips her head back, foot kicking against the floor. “We have a show that night that he’ll miss.”

Louis is still standing at the table, cheeks sucked in.

Harry can’t think of anything to say other than, “Oh.”

“ _Oh_ is right,” Perrie says. 

“Can you cancel it, maybe? The show, that is? Unless you can reschedule auditions but that seems less likely.”

“If we cancel the show they won’t have us back,” Louis says.

“You don’t know that.” Perrie sounds exasperated. Like she’s been saying it repeatedly. “You can’t miss out on an audition just because of a show. I won’t let you do it.”

Louis narrows his eyes at her.

“We just need to replace you with someone,” she says, and Louis laughs. 

“Sure, sounds easy enough.” Louis cocks his head as he speaks. “It’s not like everyone else is already busy with their own commitments. And if they’re not I’m sure they’d love the opportunity to steal some from us.”

Perrie’s mouth is pinched as she stares at Louis. They seem to have forgotten Harry’s there at all, easily slipping back into their argument.

“I can do it,” Harry says, without thinking. That’s a bold thing to offer, and he’s not actually sure that he can.

They both turn towards him, eyebrows arched. Perrie looks suspicious, eyes narrowed, and biting the inside of her cheeks. Louis shakes his head, a laugh dying in his throat. His eyebrows twitch, like he can’t decide whether to frown or raise them. 

“When are you leaving, exactly?” Perrie asks. 

“On that Saturday. But if it’s on the Saturday I’m sure we can change the date--” He starts to ramble.

“It’s on the Thursday.”

Realization settles over him like a veil. He could do this. It works with his schedule. He could actually do this. Louis’ eyes are still narrowed, and he doesn’t seem excited at the prospect at all.

“Harry,” Louis reprimands.

“Louis.”

“ _Harry._ ”

The stare at each other.

“Perrie,” Perrie says, and right. She’s there too. “Just wanted to get back into the fold.”

“You’ve only been taking lessons for less than a fortnight, you’re not ready to stand in for me at a show.”

Harry scoffs. “That’s insulting, obviously I can't _replace_ you but Perrie’s the star yeah? I just gotta learn the moves to support her. Standing in shouldn’t be a problem.”

“He's right you know.” She points at Harry, finger wagging in the air.

Louis turns to her with a gaping mouth. “Pez, you deviant.”

‘“M not saying he can replace you, obviously, get your knickers untwisted.”

“But you are saying you’re the star of the show?” Louis counters, shaking his head with each word. Perrie rolls her eyes.

She turns to Harry, says, “This is when he busts out all his accolades and awards.”

Louis audibly gasps. “Excuse me.” His voice is shrill, and even he seems shocked by how affected he is, clamping his mouth shut. 

“He won some Juilliard dance thing the first semester he was there,” she mutters at Harry, turning back to Louis, she continues, “It’s been years, let it go.”

“I’ve never been this insulted in my life.” 

Perrie mouths, _Oh my God_ , fingers pressed against her forehead. 

Harry bites down on his lips, very clearly staying out of this one. 

Louis’ arms are crossed and he tilts his chin towards Perrie, challenging her to speak again. She rotates her jaw, seemingly looking for the right words. She taps the counter, nails clicking against the surface.

“What I’m saying is. We can easily work a routine where I do the brunt of the work.”

Louis narrows his eyes at her. “Elaborate.”

“Add some more spins, and fancy footwork on my part. Without your massive ego I’m sure we could figure something out where the focus is more on me.”

“Once again, uncalled for commentary.”

She rolls her eyes again, ignoring him. “All we really need to keep is the lift.”

Louis bites down on his top lip, narrowing his eyes at Perrie. She shrugs in response. He turns to Harry. Still trying his best not to fidget where he stands. “Well? Take a seat.”

He sits on the sofa and Perrie gets up to the small kitchenette, crouching and pulling open cabinets. “Tea alright?”

“Yeah,” he answers, distracted. 

Louis is still studying him carefully, cradling his jaw. There's a hint of stubble that he presses his fingers against. “This may not be an _entirely_ idiotic idea.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Perrie fist pump. Louis sees it too, from the way he sucks his cheeks in and looks up to the ceiling, collecting himself.

“You’re going to need a lot of practice. Gonna have to set up some times with Perrie for when you can train.”

“You mean you won’t be training me?” Harry doesn’t want to sound indignant, but his eyebrows knit unconsciously. He pinches his lips to stop a pout from forming.

“You should practice with Perrie, since you’ll be dancing with her.”

“You’ve been teaching me this whole time, Lou, you know how I learn. You know what my weak spots are. And it’s your moves I have to learn. You should train me on this. Perrie would have to learn all that, and we’d have to get comfortable with each other.”

“He has a point,” she says, but she looks really pleased and smug. Louis buries his face in his hands and lets out a strangled sound. 

“M’really starting to wonder whose side you’re on.”

“I’m on the side that gets you the part and gets an amazing performance out of Harry. That’s my side.” 

Louis ignores her, telling Harry, “You’ll have to get comfortable with each other regardless. Since that’s who you’ll be performing with.”

“Obviously we’ll be doing some dancing together, yeah? I think he just means the bare bones. And if he gets used to doing lifts with you I’ve nothing to worry about.” She gestures with her mug, before taking a quick sip. 

“Fine.”

“Great! When do we start?”

“As soon as we finish this bottle of wine.” She pushes a mug into Harry’s hand, and hands one to Louis as well before she collapses back down on the sofa.

“I thought we were having tea?” Harry squints into his mug; that’s definitely wine.

Louis speaks up, “Alcohol is better. Makes you loose and limber. Which means if you fall you won’t stiffen up and get injured, that's why drunks hardly ever get hurt.”

“Very true,” Perrie adds. “I can supervise. Gotta know immediately if things will work.”

Harry frowns, swallowing down the wine he was sloshing about in his mouth--not too bad. “Am I liable to get hurt? I thought we were dancing?”

“Oh, babe,” Perrie says and follows it with a wink. “You’ve no idea what you’re in for. Cheers,” she says, and lifts her glass in a toast. Louis raises his own mug as well. 

“Louis?” 

“Hm? Oh, well. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He takes a sip and rolls his head, the sinews in his neck standing out. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. “This is fantastic, cheers.”

“A bit bitter for me, yeah, but I s’pose it’s fancy?” Perrie says throwing her glass back and downing her wine.

“Perrie Louise Edwards,” Louis chastises, and steals her glass away. “All the more for H and I, I s’pose.”

Louis tops up Harry’s mug and his own with a wink.

❋ 

They don’t finish off their wine before Louis rounds them both up and pushes them out the door. Their mugs are empty, but Louis is holding the bottle by the neck, leading the way.

Perrie switched to wine coolers, downing two in the time Harry and Louis finished their own drinks, and she’s giggly, shushing Harry and Louis while shes the one actually making noise.

Louis leads them to the clearing that Harry visited his first night at the resort. 

The light filters in through the branches, making the space look enchanted. Louis walks to the centre of the clearing, and bends down to put on the shoes he brought with, fingers lacing them tightly.

“Alright.” His stance makes him look taller and more commanding, and Harry has to lick his lips instinctively. The way the moonlight makes his skin glow leaves him speechless, which is probably for the best. The wine settling into his empty stomach. If they were alone there’s no way he could control himself.

Louis waves his hand, and Harry’s heart beats erratically at the sight. He takes a step forward, prepared to be cradled in his arms before Perrie jogs up to Louis, taking hold of his hand and bowing. Right.

“We’re just gonna do the routine for you so you can see it once,” Louis says.

They stand stiff as they count, and when they start to move it’s almost like Harry can hear music. They keep the count steady, fluidly moving together even with nothing but the leaves rustling around them as a soundtrack.

He’s reminded of the first time he saw them dancing together: they fit so well. There’s no traces of their earlier spat, their moves careful and calculated. 

It seems simple enough at first; Louis keeps his arms firm and stiff as he guides Perrie, letting her spin and catching her back into his arms. There’s a few kicks and moves on Louis’ part that he’d have to learn, but mostly it seems the coordination will be the challenge. The count that they’re so easily keeping even without sound. That’s how good he needs to be.

He’s convinced himself he’ll do great, until Perrie jumps into Louis’ arms and he spins her around. Followed by another round on the ground and another lift, this time Louis holding Perrie high above himself. 

Okay, then.

Louis puts Perrie back to the ground, and Harry can’t help but clap and whistle. They both bow, Perrie pretending to lift a fluffy skirt before bursting into laughter.

“Your turn, Harry,” she says, and pulls the wine bottle from the ground. Taking a long swig, throat moving as she swallows. She grimaces when she’s done. “Gosh, that’s still far too bitter.”

Louis keeps his hand extended waiting for Harry to take it, and it’s all Harry can focus on. His pulse making his fingers hum. 

He grabs it, pressing squeezing it tight before grabbing Louis’ other hand. “I’m leading, right?”

Louis nods, and waits for Harry to make his move. “Just do an easy dance we know already. Just gotta show Perrie that you know your moves.”

Harry’s breath pours out of him. “So you do want me to do it.”

Louis’ head ducks down and he shrugs easily. “It would help, I’m not gonna lie.”

“Okay. Okay.” Harry licks his lips, and takes hold of Louis in his arms.

“What are you thinking?” Louis asks.

“How ‘bout that first swing you taught me?”

Louis’ eyes brighten, and his mouth quirks to the side. “Lead the way, love.”

Harry starts to count softly and as soon as he starts to move Louis follows him easily. As if the two of them are just as in sync as Louis and Perrie are. It makes Harry’s blood fizz in the best way, and he’s grateful that he’s able to keep his eyes locked with Louis. It keeps him grounded, staring at him.

Somehow Harry pulls it off. Staring into Louis’ eyes, he manages to only focus on him, and he remembers what Louis told him on their first lesson. Be gentle but firm. Louis hums in time with Harry’s count, and he has to stop himself from smiling wide, the corners of his mouth twitching. 

When Harry falters, Louis slows down, pulling them into a holding pattern as he mouths the count until Harry’s ready to resume.

Harry even manages to spin Louis out a couple of times, feeling proud and accomplished when Louis’ body comes slamming back into his. He wants it all. 

He’s so caught up in the moment that he almost kisses Louis when they’re done, saved by Perrie’s hollering, which brings him crashing back into reality.

Louis squeezes Harry's shoulders, thumbs digging in just above his collarbone. His smile is brilliant, and before he knows it Louis is pressing his full weight down on Harry’s shoulders, and pushing himself up and hooking his legs around his waist.

He presses a kiss against Harry’s sweaty temple, and Harry could choke on air. 

“Not too shabby, I s’pose,” Louis says. Harry grips his thighs, keeping him locked to him firmly, and Louis lets go of Harry’s shoulders, messing up his hair. He can’t bring himself to protest, savouring the feel of Louis’ fingers against his scalp. There must be something in his eyes, because Louis’ breath catches before he drops his hands down to Harry’s shoulders again, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“We can definitely work with that. Cheers!” Perrie says and toasts them with the wine bottle. 

It’s the second time she’s broken him out of his spell, and he’s not sure whether he should be grateful or disappointed.

❋

Harry’s main takeaway from that night is that it might actually work. He might really, actually pull this off. Louis and Perrie can wrangle his two left feet into submission and actually… make him perform. 

He’s still somewhat in disbelief about it, but Perrie seemed pleased, and Louis as well, although he was a bit subdued after their dance. No doubt because Harry’s interest was undeniable at this point. His grip getting tighter around Louis’ thighs when he’d messed with his hair.

Still, Louis hadn’t pulled away. 

Their private lessons are still on the books because Louis decided that Harry can use all the extra practice he can get. 

They stop with the standard dance moves, though, focusing only on honing in the routine. Harry misses the mixed CDs, Louis having gotten more serious, but it seems to be working. 

On the nights that Louis and Perrie aren't scheduled to entertain and don't have showcases they gather in Louis’ cabin teaching Harry his moves.

The one thing that Harry’s still uncertain about is the lift. He doesn’t want to drop Perrie-- or well, Louis, while he practices. Louis rolls his eyes every time Harry brings up that concern, as if it’s an imaginary problem, and not at all a move that Harry’s not ready to perform.

“You need to learn it.”

“If I drop you you’ll get hurt and then you won’t be able to audition and then all of this will have been in vain anyway,” Harry insists. He’s repeated his speech so many times that Louis knows it by heart, and makes a point of repeating it after Harry.

“That’s nice. Anything else?”

“This is serious, Louis! Like, if you get hurt then what’s the point?”

“You're not going to drop me, Harry.” He sighs deeply, exasperated, switching out the CD from the stereo.

“You can’t know that.”

“Okay, sure,” he says with a shrug. 

He turns away from Harry, fiddling with something. 

Suddenly he moves, lightning fast, turning and running against Harry, leaping into his arms. The sudden movement and weight pressed against him leaves Harry breathless and he pants as he grips Louis’ thighs tightly. 

“See? This is the second time I’ve jumped you and you just caught me instinctively.”

“That’s not the same thing. You’re practically an octopus right now, if I wasn’t holding you you’d still be fine.” Louis clings to him heavily.

He demonstrates by letting go of Louis’ thighs-- but only for a second, not wanting to let an opportunity pass where he gets to touch Louis. 

“Force of habit,” he says, and the grip his thighs have around Harry’s midsection loosens, until he’s practically limp in Harry’s embrace. 

He’s made his point, and yet, Harry has no protests to make. He doesn’t even want to, not now.

❋

Even Gemma doesn’t understand his plight.

“Honestly, Harry, you haven’t even made a proper move yet, I cannot sympathize with you at all. Shouldn’t you be happy that he trusts you enough to lift him?”

She has a point, but she’s also missing his altogether. “But he could get hurt.”

“He could get hurt stumbling out of bed. He’s a professional, you should trust his opinion.”

They’re carrying dinner with them back to the cabin, having been ditched once more by Robin and Anne. Harry moves to take the bags from Gemma’s hands to distract her from her speech. 

He’s stopped by a small body that hurtles towards him. Clutching onto his legs, squeezing them together hard enough to upset Harry’s balance.

“Ariel,” Louis shouts. 

“It’s Harry!” Ariel says, clinging to Harry’s legs. Gemma stands by, observing the exchange curiously.

“I didn’t realize this one belonged to you. Because I know Ariel’s not running up to strangers, are you?”

Ariel shakes his head. 

Harry’s nose wrinkles uncontrollably, and Louis smiles at him. He shakes his head. “We met a while back at the beach.”

“A week ago,” Ariel says, and turns to Gemma, “that’s his sister.”

“Yes, hello, that’s me. Harry’s sister.” Gemma seems amused. Harry can practically feel the smirk she’s wearing. 

Harry adds, “We bonded over sandcastles.”

Louis’ mouth is quirked when Harry’s eyes meet his. He bites down on his lips before speaking.

“Harry makes the best sandcastles!” Ariel hugs Harry’s leg. 

“Is that so?” Louis cocks an eyebrow.

“It is!” Ariel declares.

“You made our sandcastle all nice.”

“I mean, I just helped it along a little bit. Gemma also helped me so I can’t take all the credit. ‘sides, only worked because of your base.”

“Care to share some knowledge with us then?”

“The tallest sand castle in the world is about thirteen meters tall. Built by an airline.” He'd read it in the airplane magazine, and he's pleased he remembers it.

“That's cheating.” Ariel gasps, his eyes widening in shock. “Did they use planes to build it?”

“They might’ve actually, would’ve been clever to,” Gemma says. 

Louis is smiling open and kindly, “We have to go back to the others, Ari.”

Harry says, “We can discuss it later.”

“Right, later.”

“Will you join us for dinner, Louis? We can clear up all this sandcastle confusion then and report back to Ariel.” 

Louis’ eyes flick to the bags, and he catches his lip under his teeth before looking back at them. He meets Harry’s eyes for a brief second, before switching his attention to Gemma. 

“Why not?” He shrugs, and Harry’s stomach knots up. It’s not at all what he expected.

“Splendid! Our parents have abandoned us so we were going to stay at our cabin. You know where it is, yeah?”

Louis nods, wrinkling his nose. That’s news to Harry, since he never specifically told Louis which cabin was theirs. Either word really does get around or Louis found out on his own.

“Splendid. I’d ask if you have any food restrictions but,” she says, holding up their bags of food, “we’ve already got the dinner selection here.”

Louis smiles, holding Ariel in front of him, hands on his shoulders. Ariel looks a bit bit bored, pulling at his fingers like he’s the one who wants to leave now.

“It’s all good, just gotta bring this one back to the class and finish up. Shouldn’t be more than half an hour?”

“We’ll have everything set up by then,” Gemma says with a nod.

Harry’s not quite sure how he got shoehorned out of the conversation. Louis glances at him almost timidly. As if he expects Harry to protest. 

“Alright, see you in a bit, then. Say bye, Ariel.” 

“Bye Harry, bye Gemma,” Ariel exclaims, eagerly turning away as he waves. 

Louis turns back with a smile, and Harry's heart stutters an extra beat. He needs to calm down.

❋

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but I don’t appreciate it.”

Gemma ignores him, placing the bags on the counter. He grabs them forcefully, squeezing the flimsy plastic in his hands. It doesn’t make much of an impact. 

“Outside or inside?” She asks. “Dumb question, outside of course.” She shakes her head.

“Gemma.” He tries again, as he empties the bags. The containers are still warm, pleasant spicy smell filling the air and tickling his nostrils.

“I’m helping you get your shit together.” She takes out three plates and three sets of cutlery. She shakes her head. “I can’t believe I managed to set up a date for you and I don’t even get a thank you.”

Harry has to take a deep breath. He shouldn’t be surprised. Gemma’s spent the entirety of hols so far being bored out of her skull. Of course meddling is her only source of entertainment. She means well, he tells himself internally as he bunches together the plastic bags and throws them into the bin.

Once Harry’s collected himself, he comments, “How do you know we haven’t gotten our shit together and are trying to be discreet.”

Gemma stills behind him, and he turns to face her. One of her eyes is narrowed, and one of her eyebrows is raised.

“How poorly do you think of me, really? As if I couldn’t see through that. I saw those smiles today.” She points at him, fistful of cutlery waved in his direction. “You’re acting like I’ve never been in public before. I can be subtle. I’m an excellent matchmaker you know.” She sucks her cheeks in, bobbing her head from side to side. “I mean, when the subjects co-operate.”

“This subject doesn’t need any help.”

Gemma rolls her eyes. “Right, well, I still want to meet with this paramour of yours. You’re not allowed to get serious about anyone without the family seal of approval and I’m as good as it gets, to be honest.” She cocks her head. “Only one who’s not fallen for whatever’s in the air over here.”

He’s about to respond when the door cracks open, followed by a knock. Louis’ head peeks through, tentative. 

“Should probably have knocked before opening the door, yeah?” Louis asks, nose wrinkled. He stays outside, leaning heavily against the door jamb. “Can I have a do over?”

“Don’t be silly, come on in,” Gemma says and shoots Harry a stern look. As if she’s telling _him_ to behave. _Honestly._

“We’re going to sit outside,” she says as she finishes loading up a tray. Louis looks slightly confused, pointing out the front door with his thumb. “Out front?”

“Gosh, no, I was thinking on Harry’s veranda. Much more...secluded, isn’t it, Haz?” She tips her head, hint of a smirk playing on her lips. 

“Right, yeah, secluded,” Harry repeats, and catches Louis licking his lips.

“S’nice.”

Gemma is, surprisingly, on her best behaviour. She asks Louis about how he got into performing, and Louis gives her an shorter version than he did Harry. It shouldn’t warm him so much, knowing that Louis felt comfortable talking in depth about his path with Harry, but it does. Gemma does give him much leeway to contribute, so he spends most of their meal biting down on his lip, and honking out laughs when Louis says something particularly funny. Whenever he does Louis turns his attention to him, eyes crinkling in delight, and it makes Harry want to bury his face in his hands. 

Harry can’t even imagine what an actual date would be like. He probably wouldn’t survive it. 

Their only hitch happens after Gemma recovers from laughing at one of Louis' jokes. His eyes have been sparkling, and he's been shooting proud glances in Harry's direction and Harry's own chest swells with pride until Gemma speaks.

"You know, Louis, I much prefer you to that blonde running around trying to stick her claws into Harry. You can stay." She brings her glass to her lips after that, not looking at either of them. She must be tipsy for it to just come out like that.

"That's...nice," Louis says, and it sounds like he's just trying to fill the air. His brows are knotted in confusion. He blinks as he leans back into his chair.

"You probably know her, Taylor? Can't be that many people on staff. I bet she does this all the time." She must realize she's said too much based on the way she shifts in her seat. "Another drink?" She asks the table before picking up their pitcher and refilling her own glass. 

Harry just stares at his plate, slightly concerned that if he says anything it will trigger something new. Louis fixes his cutlery on the plate, pushing his fork and knife close together and angling them on the plate. 

Somehow, Louis is the one that saves them, asking, "So how's the holiday been thus far then? Clawing staff excluded?" His voice is light enough to make it sound like a joke, but it's clear that it isn't.

He seems even more confused when Gemma groans in response. 

“Was this a...sore topic?” Louis half whispers, shielding his mouth from Gemma, as if she can’t still hear him.

Harry only has time to shrug before Gemma laughs drily. 

“No, it’s fine. I’ve just been bored out of my skull.” Her lips roll as she exhales. 

Louis still seems confused, so Harry speaks up. “Mum and Robin basically abandoned us once they realized how many couples activities they had access to.”

Louis nods. “Right, popular honeymooning activities we’ve got.”

Gemma continues, “And Harry abandoned me--”

“Did not.” His chest tightens. This is exactly the topic he wanted to avoid. 

“No, you did. T’was for a good cause, I understand,” she says. She waves her fork in Louis’ direction. Louis blinks, gaze flitting over to Harry.

He continues before she has the chance to say more, “I keep telling her she should write a piece on the resort. She freelances sometimes, so it would keep her busy and she could make some money.”

“Except there’s nothing to write about,” she says. If she sensed his eagerness to change the topic she doesn’t let on.

Louis nods, fork pushing at the noodles on his plate. He spears a piece of bok choy before speaking. “You could do a profile on one of the staff? Human interest story, perhaps?”

Gemma blinked, raising her eyebrows. “Are you offering your services, Louis?”

He barks out a laugh, head ducking low against his chest. “Christ, no. Was thinking of Nialler actually.”

“The Irishman?”

“Yeah. He wants to run this place one day, so he’s doing everything he can to make himself indispensable.”

“That’s smart.” Gemma seems to mull this over, chewing on a bite thoughtfully.

“Is that why he’s working about five hundred different jobs?”

Louis nods, his mouth widens and quirks up, face full of pride. “Yeah, exactly. S’got quite the story. I keep betting on him getting an ulcer at some point, with all that running around but so far nothing.”

Gemma frowns, “Yeah, maybe. Could be something about the new millennials, the ambitious ones. It would certainly be a twist.”

Louis shrugs. “Just a thought.”

“It’s a great idea, Gem, and it’s doable. Plus Niall is great company so you don’t have to be alone.”

“Pawning off the big sis, I see how it is.”

“Gemma.”

“You know what, sure. I’ll talk to Niall. If,” she pauses dramatically, Louis and Harry both watching her expectantly. “If you try to do the lift.”

Louis’ jaw drops open and he starts to laugh, almost silently at first, before he tips his head back, exposing the line of his throat. “You didn’t tell me this one was on my side,” he teases Harry.

Harry’s torn between staring daggers at her and watching the way Louis’ body trembles with laughter.

Louis doesn’t seem bothered that Gemma knows about what they’re doing, which is a plus. But on the other hand, now there’s no way he can avoid doing it. Gemma knows, from the way she tips her chin up at him, sipping her water. 

“Her side is whatever goes against my interests,” Harry comments and Louis laughs.

❋

“I’ll do you first,” Louis says, as if that’s supposed to be some great comfort. It’s not that Harry doesn’t trust Louis; it’s just that he’s not sure that he trusts Louis with _this_. 

Harry’s seen Louis lift Perrie, but Perrie is at least half of Harry’s size, and smaller than Louis. So. He thinks a little concern is warranted. 

If Louis senses Harry’s hesitation he doesn’t say anything. He kicks off his shoes, standing barefoot on the strip of beach he brought them to. When he turns towards Harry his fringe gets caught in his eyes, and he flicks it out carefully, fingers lingering by his ear. 

“Well?” Louis quickly removes his shirt, tossing it on top of his shoes, and unbuckles his shorts. He doesn’t turn around to watch Harry follow suite. He strides into the water, fully expecting Harry to follow.

Harry swallows as he watches him move, the sway of his hips more pronounced. Of course he’ll follow. It’s not like he has a choice anymore.

“Right,” Harry mutters to himself before pulling his shirt over his head and chucking off his own shorts. 

Louis is a vision in the water. He must’ve gone under while Harry was getting undressed. The water reaches just about his waist, but his chest and shoulders glisten.

Harry’s supposed to get up close and personal with that. He should probably have worn double swim trunks.

He wades over to him, slowly, fingers twitching by his side. He doesn’t get too close before Louis tells him to stop.

“That’s a good spot to start. There’s going to be some resistance obviously but like, try to come towards me as fast as you can and I’ll lift you.”

“Just straight towards you?”

“Yep,” Louis pops his _p_ and widens his stance where he stands. Harry doesn’t really have a choice at this point. But at least when he falls he’ll slip into the water. It’s a small blessing.

They’re in deep enough water that there’s some real resistance with each of Harry’s steps. He does his best though, just staring straight ahead at Louis, heart thundering in his chest. It’s weird to be barreling towards someone like this. When he gets closer Louis gets lower, presumably hunching in the water. Harry half expects for him to get out of the way completely, let Harry go on straight ahead. 

He doesn’t.

Just as he gets close enough that he’s certain he’s going to crash into Louis strong hands grip the flesh of his hips, and his nerves spike just before Louis grabs onto him. And he’s up. He’s actually...up.

“Stop kicking,” Louis says from under him, his voice strained. Harry does his best to keep still, but he’s off balance, not quite sure how to get back to it.

“Christ,” he mutters and tries to emulate the move he’s seen Perrie pull. Legs straight behind him and arms spread out. It helps a little. Although he still feels like he’s going to tip over at any moment.

“See?” Louis says, the smile evident in his voice. Harry can picture his beaming expression and his stomach clenches with the desire to see it. Tipping his head down even the tiniest amount would completely wreck his balance, though. 

“How do I get down?” He asks, and Louis laughs hard enough that Harry can feel the vibrations in his bones. His fingers slip against Harry’s skin. Just like if they were dancing, Harry follows Louis’ lead.

He easily gets tipped back and slips through Louis’ grip. His hands rest on Harry’s flanks, squeezing him gently. “Easy peasy pumpkin peasy.”

Harry can’t help the smile that follows, endlessly endeared. From Louis’ reaction he's pretty sure he’s reading it as excitement on Harry’s part, though. 

Louis takes hold of his hands and brings them to his hips, says, “This is where you want to hold on. It’s about balance, not strength. It’ll be easier on Perrie because she’s got more to hold on to so if you can pull it off with me you’ll do great with her.”

“Right.” He presses the pads of his fingers against Louis’ skin. It’s cold and slippery under the water, but it still makes his pulse jump.

Louis backs away, eyes still intent on Harry’s. “You’re not gonna hurt me. Just don’t zone out.”

Harry shakes his head. 

It’s easier said than done. Being faced with a topless Louis intensely watching him. His eyes dart over his face, dipping down to his chest briefly, and Harry flushes. The pit of his stomach is heavy with anticipation, shoulders and joints tense.

Louis’ tongue darts out of his mouth before he starts moving, and it’s just the distraction Harry needs. He doesn’t have time to think or react before Louis barrels towards him. 

_Hips_ , grab him by the hips, he repeats to himself. His hands dart towards Louis’ hips and he keeps his eyes trained on them as he gets closer, eventually landing on them and pushing Louis up, up. 

Before he knows it he’s holding Louis steady above his head, his hipbones easily cradled in Harry’s palms.

“Oh my god,” Harry manages to choke out. He actually did it.

“Steady on, boy,” Louis says with a laugh. “Try turning around.”

Harry digs his fingers in and carefully turns his feet. He manages to keep Louis in his grip and he starts to laugh. It seems so easy now that he’s actually doing it. As if Louis belongs in the palms of his hands.

“Now take me down,” Louis says, and he shifts in Harry’s grasp, getting heavier somehow. It’s easy enough to bring him down to his front and he slips down, pressed up against Harry’s chest.

Harry’s so elated that he pulls Louis in for a hug, fingers slipping against his wet back. He doesn’t want to let go, heart hammering against his ribs. Louis presses in close to Harry’s ear, says, “Not to say I told you so, but I told you so.” 

When they pull apart Louis’ eyes are crinkling, his hair plastered to his face. Water drops stuck to his eyelashes as he blinks. 

Louis is so beautiful, and magnetic, and Harry can feel himself being reeled in. His skin humming with the need to get closer, his chest filled with air. He doesn’t want to stop himself. 

He doesn’t think, cups Louis’ face and slots his mouth against his. It feels right, Louis chasing after him, a soft whine escaping his mouth.

Louis pulls away too fast, head ducking down and eyes scrunched shut. He brings a hand to his face, covering his eyes. Harry grips him by the hips, making sure he can’t move away.

“Harry… I can’t have a fling with you, okay?” 

“It’s not. It wouldn’t be a fling.” Harry wants to grip Louis’ wrists, pull them away from his face. How can he still think that that’s all this would be?

Louis holds his breath. Wiping his face with his hand before crossing his arms over his chest, increasing the distance between them. He bites down on his lip before speaking, his voice low, “Christ, Harry. You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why? I mean it.” Harry’s still got his thumbs digging into the flesh of Louis’ hips, and he can feel Louis’ stomach billowing as he breathes in deeply. At least he’s not pulling away entirely.

Louis’ eyes are still closed. If only he’d look at Harry he would know… he’d have to know that Harry means it. 

“You’re so bloody earnest all the time. You’re going to get hurt.”

“Are you going to hurt me?”

Louis laughs, as if the concept were ridiculous. “It's just the adrenaline speaking,” he mutters. “Would’ve happened eventually considering the circumstances. I shouldn’t have brought you here. I’m sorry.”

He’s trying to convince himself, is what it sounds like. As if Harry hadn’t known he wanted this since way before they started dancing together.

“That’s not what this is,” Harry admits. He’s so close to pleading with Louis to understand. He can’t just get that one kiss. He can’t. Louis responded; Harry felt it. 

Louis clenches his jaw and backs away, slipping away from Harry’s touch. Harry’s fingertips go cold at the loss of contact, but he swallows it down. His chest heaving as he does. “Let’s do it again. Ready?”

They repeat the lift once more in the water, and twice on land, each time Louis pulls away as soon as Harry brings him down. The breeze that was there has grown stronger sends a chill down Harry’s back, he can feel his arms goose pimpling. Louis puts on a brave face, but Harry catches him shivering when they put their clothes back on.

“Cold?” Harry asks, ready to offer up his spare shirt, but Louis shakes his head. Yet, he rubs at his arms when he slips his vans back on, teeth clenched.

A change of tactic is in order.

“We should go back, ‘m getting hungry,” Harry says. 

“Yeah, same,” Louis says, still rubbing at his arms vigorously. 

Agreement is a good starting place. He can’t let them go their separate ways while things are still awkward though. “They stopped serving supper already though, didn't they?"

Louis squints, shaking out his hair, fingers trying to wrangle the wet strands into submission. 

Louis bites down on the inside of his cheeks before saying, “I think I know where we can go.”

❋

Louis leads them towards the kitchens. Harry knows better than to protest, trusting that Louis knows what he’s doing. They end up rounding the back, towards what must be the staff entrance. 

“Should be some leftovers we can steal,” Louis comments, backing into the swing door leading into the actual kitchen. He’s not even keeping his voice down, which means this must be a common practice for him.

The lights are all on which seems odd to Harry. Louis doesn’t seem bothered in the least. Louis drums his fingers against one of the steel counters his distorted reflection bouncing back at them from all the sleek illuminated surfaces.

Harry walks ahead, and rounding one of the corners he finds the row of refrigerators, and someone shielded behind an open door.

Harry stays still until Louis comes up next to him. Louis grips Harry’s shoulders and peeks over them to see what he’s looking at.

“S’that Niall?” Harry asks. 

“Looks like it. Must’ve gotten the same idea as us,” Louis whispers before bringing his finger to his mouth.

Louis makes a show out of creeping up behind him. Quickly, he pulls Niall’s hood over his face from behind.

Niall recoils, twisting around. “Jesus Christ on a stick, Tommo.” He grasps his chest, mouth dropping open and still full of food as he pulls his hood back down. 

“Didn’t your mum teach you not to speak with your mouth full?” Louis teases and Niall opens his mouth even wider, trying to get into Louis' face.

Louis bats him away halfheartedly. He’s fighting back a smile when he says, “Gross.” 

He manages to push his shoulders hard enough that Niall bumps into Harry, and he gets a panoramic view of the contents inside Niall’s mouth. 

Niall swallows. “That was just for Tommo, didn’t mean to offend ya, Harry.” He continues wrapping up a dish with cellophane.

“Anything good?” Louis asks, opening up the fridge wider, pulling out the trays in there to inspect them. He grabs a bowl of blackberries, popping one into his mouth. His eyes flick to Harry’s briefly before he swallows. There’s something there; Harry’s certain of it.

Niall nods, swallowing and wiping his mouth. He offers the dish he was just wrapping to Harry, unfolding the corner. “There’s some good meatballs, roasted eggplant, and some salmon. Some quinoa salad too that’s pretty nice.”

Louis wrinkles his nose at that. He takes out the bowl of berries and bumps against Harry by the counter, peering into the dish. “Meatballs sound good.”

He dips his fingers into the bowl. He brings a meatball into his mouth, and rolls his eyes as he chews. “Oh, yeah.”

“Now you’ve gone and gotten your filthy germs all over that,” Niall complains.

Louis frowns a serious pout on his face. “Hmm, yes I suppose we’ll have to finish off the whole dish. What a burden.” 

Niall rolls his eyes. “You see what I have to deal with?” Niall says to Harry. Harry shrugs, not particularly keen on ganging up on Louis. 

“I think we can finish it off, yeah.”

“You’re the bloody worst, you are,” Niall mutters, shaking his head. “Don’t take any of the booze, we took stock this morn’.”

Both Harry and Louis mimic zipping their lips simultaneously, and Niall scoffs.

“Yer some proper weirdos, y’are,” Niall says and shakes his head with a laugh.

Louis smiles wide. 

“Lads, it’s been a pleasure, but I’d rather chew my own arm off than get in the middle of--” Niall squints at them, gesticulating, “--whatever this thing is.”

“He’s got a weak stomach, that one,” Louis says loud enough that Niall can hear it as he retreats. He flashes them a middle finger without turning around, doors swinging shut dramatically behind him.

Louis stuffs another meatball in his mouth, and his lips stretch out around his fingers. In an attempt to distract himself from the visual and break the tension Harry starts stuffing meatballs into his mouth until it’s completely full, his cheeks puffing out. 

Harry’s gotten to the point where he can’t close his mouth anymore when Louis starts laughing so hard he leans down, his still damp hair hanging over his forehead. When he straightens back up there’s trails of sauce along the sides of his mouth.

Harry reaches out to wipe it off. Louis stares at him, swallowing thickly.

Harry just brings his thumb back to his mouth and licks it clean. He’s not trying to be suggestive, he just can’t help himself. He ducks his head and goes back to the fridge, wanting to distract himself with something before he grabs Louis and kisses him again.

Louis seems to have the same idea, stepping around the kitchen island towards the wine rack. His fingers trail along each of the necks, pulling out the bottles to read the labels.

“Large selection we've got here. Coulda had a proper wine and dine if it hadn't been for that pesky groundskeeper.”

Harry chuckles drily. He’s got the bowl of blackberries in his palm, and he closes the fridge with a bump of his hip. He watches as Louis trails his fingers over each of the bottles.

He pulls one out, studying the label. Then another, and another. With each bottle a frown deepens on his face. Eventually he holds one of the bottles up, showing it to Harry. 

“Isn't this the wine you got us? That time you came by?”

Harry’s thumb pops out of his mouth with a wet pop. 

“Yeah.” 

Louis glances back at the bottles, finger trailing along the rack before dropping his hand to his side. “They’re all the same. You got it from here?” Louis seems surprised. Eyes wide. 

“Wanted to get the wining part down of wining and dining. Niall said it was a nice exclusive to the resort.”

“So when you brought this over to mine…” Louis trails off. 

Harry’s not quite sure what Louis wants to ask and he doesn’t want to assume anything. But he can’t not speak up, his pulse throbbing loudly in his ears. 

“I brought it just for you. Well, for us to share, hopefully.”

Louis’ fingers trail along the side of the bottle. Louis squints towards the bottle, thinking. He bites down on his lower lip before releasing it. When he finally turns his attention to Harry, he asks, “What was the thing with Taylor Gemma was talking about?”

“I-- Well. She.” Harry pauses, trying to gauge what Louis expects. He seems perfectly attentive, nail pressing into his skin where he grips his arm. The tendons in his hand flex. “She made it very clear that she was interested in me--” Harry starts, slightly concerned with how conceited it makes him sound. He blinks. Louis doesn't seem surprised though, still listening intently. “--I uh. She figured out I wasn’t interested.”

Louis licks his lips. “How?”

“She uh, guessed I was interested in you. With the”--Harry scratches at his eyebrow as he nods towards the wine-- “she ran into me when I had the wine. And she figured it out.”

“Right. Because any dimwit could figure out a boy at your door with a bottle of red is interested,” Louis mutters, seemingly to himself. Harry can't help his shrug. “I'm going to guess she wasn't happy about that.” His tone is even, but his expression is still tentative. As if Harry could easily break the spell that their under with one word.

“No but. She knows better than to complain. She's not been the most appropriate. I'm sure she wouldn't want word to slip out."

Louis' eyebrow quirks before he still his expression. Louis gaze flicks in Harry's direction. There’s a spark there, and Harry can feel it in his belly. He swallows, his throat dry. He could certainly use some of that wine now.

“I think I’m full.” Louis pushes the bottle back in with the others. He sticks his thumbs through his belt loops. 

“Yeah, same.”

“Okay,” Louis says, still watching Harry intently. He licks his lips, tongue peeking out of his mouth. 

It’s raining when they leave the kitchens, a light patter filling up the evening air. The earlier mischief seems to be gone from Louis’ face, and he pulls Harry by the hand, steering them towards Harry’s cabin.

Harry’s heart beats in his throat. There’s no reason for Louis to take them here. He doesn’t want to ask though, the newfound determination in Louis’ steps still new and fragile. Whatever his mission is, Harry doesn’t want to disrupt it.

They go around back, getting into his room through the unlocked veranda door. As soon as they’re inside, Louis shakes his head. “Pretty sure regulation says to keep these locked.”

“You’re complaining right now? Really?”

“Just saying.” Louis shrugs. He presses his fingers against the dresser, lingering. He picks up one of Harry’s necklaces, watching the chain as it runs over his fingers. “S’nice,” he comments, as if he has no care in the world. As if him just standing about in Harry’s bedroom is a perfectly normal occurrence.

“I’m gonna--” Harry starts and waves off towards the bathroom. Both his and Louis’ hair is still damp, perhaps that’s why Louis came here. Wanting to get dried off properly. Harry doesn’t want to get his hopes up. 

Harry studies himself in the mirror. He needs a moment to collect his thoughts. He knows why he wants Louis to be lingering but he doesn’t know if he’s right. Especially not since he was shot down earlier. Still. He takes a deep breath, gathering himself. 

After drying off his own hair, Harry brings a towel out for Louis. He hands it to him. “Here. You’re soaked.” 

Louis isn’t, not really. His shoulders and hair are a bit damp, probably more from their earlier swim rather than the light rainfall. Still, it’s only polite to offer him the opportunity to dry off.

“‘M not,” Louis protests even as he takes the towel. He drops it off on the dresser. 

Well. If he won’t have it, Harry’s going to press. “Why’re you here then? Isn’t this against regulations?”

Louis is staring at him resolutely. A clarity and decisiveness in his eyes. He comes closer, and closer still. Harry’s never been this close to him when they’re not dancing. The stillness and intent doing something to his insides.

Louis grabs the towel from Harry’s hands, and tosses it onto the bed.

“Yeah,” he says, finally. Harry swallows, his throat thick with words wanting to spill out. But he wants to hear what Louis has to say. His voice is a bit higher when he speaks again, asking, “Do you not want me to be?”

How could he even ask that? “No I--” Harry starts, and Louis watches his lips moving. 

“When you said… this wasn't-- wouldn't be a fling. What did you mean?” Louis asks, eyes shining bright.

His fingers pull at Harry's open collar, letting the fabric slip between them.

“I mean I don’t want it to be. Tried telling you.”

Louis closes his eyes, exhaling slowly, as if it’s been taking all of his energy to hold in his breath. He’s quiet when he speaks. “Me neither.”

“Does this-- Can I?” Harry asks, waiting for another go ahead from Louis. He can’t even finish his sentence, skin humming with how near Louis is standing.

Harry’s breath hitches. Louis studies him carefully, and Harry knows he’s about to go in for the kiss but he can’t wait, swooping down instead.

He doesn’t regret it: Louis meets him instantly. 

“Fuck, okay,” Louis says, almost breathless before pulling Harry in for another kiss. Their mouths slot against each other perfectly. Harry can’t believe they’re doing this. They’re actually doing this. 

He’s allowed to touch Louis, to taste him. Everything has narrowed down to each point of contact between them; their lips and tongues, hungrily lapping at each other. Louis’ fist clenching at the fabric of his shirt on his shoulder. His own hands against Louis’ hips, thumbs pressing into the swell of his stomach as he breathes heavily.

Louis walks him towards the bed and when the back of Harry’s thighs hit the mattress he lets himself fall down. Louis follows quickly and Harry shuffles back awkwardly as Louis knees over him. 

Now that Harry’s got this he’s never letting go. He nips at Louis’ lips as he presses closer and whines as Louis returns the favor. 

It’s not enough, it’s not nearly enough.

“Off, off,” Louis mutters as he pulls at Harry’s shirt and Harry quickly pulls it off. 

Louis makes a noise in the back of his throat before dropping his hands to Harry’s shoulders. He’s being gentle, his fingertips barely grazing his skin as he explores the planes of his chest. It’s enough to make Harry shiver beneath him.

“Fuck, Harry.” Louis seems to feed off of Harry’s responses, an infinite loop of them egging each other. 

Now that he has permission to touch Harry can’t get enough, hands rough around Louis’ shoulders and back. He grips his arse and Louis bucks against him. “Fuck.”

Louis must feel how hard he is already, as his body goes taut. His face scrunches up into a grimace before he climbs off of Harry, laying down next to him. 

“Louis…” Harry’s whining, he knows, but he doesn’t understand why they had to stop snogging. He shifts to his side, facing him.

Louis is tenting his shorts, and Harry wants to touch so badly, but he doesn’t want to overstep, instead running his fingers along the exposed skin of Louis’ stomach. Louis exhales shakily at the touch, bucking into it.

“Haz,” he mutters, turning onto his side as well so he can face Harry. His pupils are blown, flush high on his cheeks. 

“What do you want?” Harry asks, fingers gently rucking up Louis’ shirt. The skin of his belly is so soft and warm, inviting as his muscles twitch below his touch. Every part of him is humming with desire, the need to get closer overwhelming. 

Louis squeezes his eyes shut. He covers his face with his hands, breathing roughly into them. “Christ, even looking at you is too much.”

He has to gather himself to ask, steadily, “What… what do you want?”

Louis huffs out a groan before twisting himself around so he’s on his side as well, facing Harry. He nips at Harry’s open mouth before grabbing his hand, the one that was just under his shirt.

Louis brings it to his mouth, and sucks down to Harry’s fingers. His eyes flutter shut and Harry can only gape.

The slick sound of Louis tongue working over his fingers fill the air, and gives them a last long suck before taking them out of his mouth, lips shiny and red.

“This,” Louis says, squeezing them tightly. He inches closer and presses the heel of his palm against Harry’s erection. “ _This_.” 

Harry bucks into the touch, and his chest deflates as all the air goes out of him. He’s only just gotten Louis in his bed and he’s not quite sure how he’s supposed to survive it. 

“Okay.” Harry swallows. “I’m okay with that, yeah.”

Louis drops his head against Harry’s shoulder, his nose pressed against his skin. “We can’t. I’ve got a recital in the morning. Don’t think I could handle it after this,” he says, punctuating his words with a squeeze of Harry’s cock.

Fuck. He hadn’t even thought about it as a possibility, happy to snog like teens and rut against each other, but now that Louis even mentioned it… He bites down on his lip before kissing Louis, biting down on his. Louis who just practically fellated his fingers. 

He pulls Louis closer, his shirt is still rucked up around his chest, and the fabric is rough against his own skin. He doesn’t care. All he wants is to get closer. 

“Don’t have to fuck you. Could eat you out.”

Louis whimpers and holds his breath. “Yeah,” he says, trying to sound unaffected. 

As if Harry hadn’t heard the way his breath caught. As if he wasn’t harder against Harry’s thigh. As if his fingers weren’t twitching against Harry’s overheated skin. He’s slung one of his legs over Harry’s, his heel brushing against Harry’s calves.

Harry continues, “Could blow you. You could blow me.”

Louis grunts. “Yeah.” He doesn’t waste any time opening the rest of Harry’s shirt and pushing it off of his shoulders. “Would love that. Love to taste you. Bet you taste amazing.”

He dips down to kiss Harry again, hand undoing Harry’s flies, and pressing against Harry’s dick. God, the idea of Louis’ mouth on him has him overheating. And yet-- 

“Get up.”

Louis blinks, hand frozen inside of Harry’s pants. “You okay?”

“No I think--” Harry swallows thickly, the skin of his neck prickling. “I know you said you wanted me to do you but-- if you want. I don’t have a recital tomorrow. Nothing’s stopping you from fucking me.”

Louis’ mouth drops open on a sharp inhale, eyes sparkling. “Yeah?” 

Harry nods, flushing. Louis presses kisses along Harry’s collarbones, and he flops onto his back, letting the feeling of Louis’ teeth scraping against his skin overtake him.

“Yeah?” Louis asks again, nosing along his throat. 

“Yeah,” Harry repeats, laughter in his throat. Louis’ sheer amazement is enough to make his blood fizz. Louis shakes his head.

“Fuck, you’re amazing, Harry.” He runs his fingers through his hair, and it stands up, still damp. He looks ridiculous, clothes a mess, cock tenting his shorts, hair standing on end. 

Harry’s never wanted anyone more.

He chuckles. “S’that a yes, then?”

“Perhaps,” Louis teases. 

“Come on, give us a show then. Let’s see those moves.”

“Oh, we want a show, do we?”

“Yes, we do.” Harry starts shuffling his shorts and pants off while still laying down, leaving them bunched up around his knees. He takes his cock in hand, getting heated from the way Louis watches him heavy lidded. “Gonna have to take care of this myself otherwise.”

Louis grunts and backs off of the bed. He sways his hips as he goes. He crosses his arms over his belly, pulling at the bottom of his shirt. He raises one side before bringing it back down, and raising the other, all the while still swaying his hips. 

It seems he’s dancing to the beat of Harry’s pulse. Precome beads at his slit as he squeezes himself in time with each buck of Louis’ hips. 

Louis turns around before finally taking off his shirt, revealing the long line of his back, the notches of his spine looking lickable as he undulates. The dip of his waist looks extreme with each swerve, his fingers raking over his skin, leaving it red in its wake. Harry wants to be the one leaving marks, not Louis, and he whines low in his throat.

“Louis...”

Louis turns his head around, popping his hip. His arse looks amazing. “Hmm? Impatient are we? You’re the one who asked for a show.” 

Harry can’t pretend, he pushes his shorts off of his legs, and they tangle in his ankles because he can’t take his eyes off of Louis. He wants to get up out of bed and suck at the dimples in Louis’ lower back, wants to nuzzle against his belly, dip his tongue into his navel and below--

“Need a little help, darling?” Louis asks, laughter in his voice.

“Rude,” Harry says with a pout. He doesn’t think it’s fair that he should be the only one so affected. But when Louis turns his way, shorts and pants slipping off his legs, his cock is flushed and hard, bobbing with each movement. He swallows at the sight. He can’t bloody wait to touch. 

“You should see yourself, all tangled up in your clothes,” Louis says with a lilt. He pulls at Harry’s shorts, slipping them over his feet and drops them to the floor. He presses a kiss against the arch of his foot. 

It should tickle, but all it does is send a jolt of electricity straight to Harry’s cock. He’s still so fucking hard.

“You look lovely, so lovely, and just for me,” Louis mumbles against Harry’s skin. He kisses his way up Harry’s calf. His nails scratch along the outside of his thighs, making all of his hair stand up. 

Harry widens his legs as an invitation, and Louis arches a brow as he kisses Harry’s shins. 

“S’not nice to make lovely boys wait.”

“Hmm,” Louis hums. He kisses the inside of Harry’s knee. Presses his teeth gently against his thigh, moving up, up-- “Well, I wouldn’t want to be rude.”

He knees his way up, spreading Harry’s legs with his own. His fingers hot against Harry’s abdomen. Toying with his nipples. “Tell me then, lovely boy. Where’s the supply?”

Harry licks his lips, nods towards the dresser. He’s never been happier about being an optimist. “Condom’s in my bag, I’ll get those,” Harry says as he scrambles to his holdall. He makes it back to bed, watching as Louis leans over him, holding the bottle of lube.

“Can’t believe I get this,” Louis says, awe in his voice as he slicks up his fingers. 

Louis taps the inside of Harry’s thighs with his palm, and Harry's spreads his legs wider, his belly straining and muscles aching with want. 

Louis looks down as he presses a finger into Harry, mouth slack as he watches where their bodies are joined. “Fuck, Harry. You’re so bloody hot. So amazing.”

Harry whines, feeling hot and cold at the same time. Nerves flutter in his belly at the intensity with which Louis is watching him. Louis’ free hand is smooth against his belly and chest, pinching tenderly at his nipples. He’s never felt this desired, this wanted. 

He has to bite down on his lip before he says something he’ll regret. Louis must sense it, because his eyes flick up to his face. 

“Hey, don’t do that.” He thumbs at Harry’s mouth as he keeps fingering him open. “Want to hear you, please. Want to know what you like.”

Louis gets in a pointed thrust, and Harry’s mouth drops open, a long moan escaping. “This, like this,” Harry says, breathy and desperate. His voice guttural and low. 

“Yeah?” Louis twists his fingers again, and adds another. Harry bucks up into the touch, into the pressure. 

“Yeah, fuck.”

It’s almost worse, having Louis’ eyes on his face; the sweat beading at his temple making him glow. He looks ethereal, his eyelashes dark as he blinks. 

“Kiss me,” Harry asks, and he’s barely gotten the words out before Louis’ mouth is on his. Tonguing into his mouth, teeth pressing against his lips. Harry’s out of breath, and he clings to Louis as hard as he can, scrambling for purchase against his back. 

It’s so much, Louis’ everywhere, his scent overpowering him and yet it’s not enough. He wraps his legs around Louis urging him on, wanting him as close as he possibly can. He’d like to melt into him, if possibly, skin fuse together so they’d never be apart.

“Okay, okay,” Louis mutters as he pulls away. “You’ve got no bloody idea, how gorgeous you are, Harry.”

“No, you,” Harry teases and the intensity disappears from Louis’ face briefly as he cracks into a smile. He ducks his head and sniffs, his fringe swooping over his face.

Impatient, Harry grabs the condom and opens the package. Louis crawls closer so that Harry can slip it on, giving it a squeeze for good measure. “Gorgeous,” he mutters, and Louis silences him with a scorching kiss. He sucks at Harry’s tongue, breaking away with a loud and wet smack, leaving Harry panting and wriggling beneath him.

Harry’s more than ready when he feels Louis press against him, slow, so slow. It’s a steady push and when he’s in all the way his chest trembles. “Fuck Harry, you’re so--”

“Yeah?” Harry tilts his hips up, trying to get more of Louis in him, even though he knows he can’t. 

“Yeah,” it’s more of a sigh but it sends shivers down Harry’s spine. 

“Show me, then,” Harry challenges, and it seems to work. Louis smirks down at him.

“Okay.” 

Louis’ palms are hot against the back of Harry’s thighs as he pushes them up. He hooks them over his shoulders, and Harry’s at Louis’ mercy as he starts pounding into him. Each pointed thrust followed by a sloppy kiss against Harry’s shin. 

It doesn’t take long for them both to start panting. Harry’s overwhelmed and overheated. He’s pretty sure he’s babbling, not quite catching any of what Louis is saying. He watches his mouth move, his jaw. He’s never seen anyone look so beautiful before, even as his muscles tense.

Louis takes him in hand and Harry’s stomach clenches, each of his muscles tightening. He’s pretty sure he squeezes his legs around Louis’ neck, but he doesn’t say anything, just pushes one aside. 

Louis leans down, pressing close against Harry’s face. Pressing kisses against his temple. “Come on babe, please. Can’t hold off much longer.”

“Y--yeah?” Harry stutters, the tremble in Louis’ voice getting to him. He’s the reason he can barely speak, can barely hold back. 

He tangles his fingers into Louis’ hair pulling him close so that he can tongue at his mouth sloppily. It’s not so much a kiss as it is the both of them breathing into each others mouths. 

That’s when Harry comes, Louis hitting his prostate head on as his thumb circles the slit of his cock. Harry watches as he spurts against Louis’ chest, shocks of pleasure wracking through him. He’s disconnected from the sight, overwhelmed. 

Louis grunts loudly, and pulls out. He moves to straddle Harry and starts to wank himself. 

“Please,” Harry asks, sticking his tongue out. 

“Fuck,” Louis mutters and his abs contract. He pushes the tip of his cock against Harry’s mouth. Harry licks against the foreskin, teasing him, and that’s when he comes. Harry takes the opportunity to suck down his head, trying to milk him dry. His eyes flutter shut, and the whines Louis lets out are a panacea to his ears. He digs his fingers into the flesh of Louis’ bum, trying to keep him close.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Louis says again, pulling away and collapsing against Harry’s side. “Shit.”

“Yeah, same,” Harry says, voice hoarse. Louis turns towards him, brilliant smile on his face. 

“Thank you.”

“Oh, that wasn’t for you, believe me,” Harry teases and Louis laughs. 

“No, I don’t mean--” Louis shakes his head as he moves to grab kleenex from Harry’s bedside table, doing his best to wipe Harry’s sweaty stomach clean. He presses a row of kisses along Harry’s abs after wiping them off, and Harry’s skin tickles from his stubble. “I mean well, yeah, thanks for this. But just. Thank you. For like, you. Being you.”

“Hm, well in that case you’re welcome. S’not like I know how to be anything else.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you any other way.” Louis’ hair is still standing on end and Harry pushes it down. His hands cradling Louis face as he peppers kisses over it. 

Harry’s pretty sure his face has been overtaken by a ridiculous grin, cheeks hurting he’s smiling so wide, but he doesn’t care. Louis’ face matches his and just when Harry’s about to ask if Louis can stay, his legs push along Harry’s, hooking him closer. He doesn’t need to ask; all he has to do is pull the sheets over them both, and slot his body against Louis’.

❋

Louis’ shoulders relax as soon as Harry walks through the door, and he shakes them out. He seems to be keeping himself from smiling, hand going up to rub the back of his neck as he watches each of Harry’s moves intently.

“Hey.” Louis’ mouth twitches, and he licks his lips. It sparks flutters in Harry’s belly and his fingers twitch with the desire to pull him in, press close and kiss him silly. Which he can do, now, he reminds himself.

Harry’d woken up alone, but it’d been expected, since Louis had to go back to his to change before going to work. He’d left a note, as well as about three filthy text messages telling him he was still ruined for his recital, limbs apparently too relaxed. Harry’s pretty sure that’s not a thing, but he still spent the morning mooning at his phone, trying not to crack up in front of Gemma.

“Recital go well?” Harry asks, trying to maintain some semblance of cool. Louis is in thin sweat shorts, scratching his calf with his toes. The slip of his shirt reveals spots on his neck that Harry marked the night before.

He doesn’t know which appeals to him more: the idea that Louis wore the shirt during his recital, without a care that Harry’s marks were visible on him, or that he changed into it just for Harry. 

“Parents seemed pleased enough.” He tips his head, offering Harry a small smile. 

“Even though you were-- what was it? Loose limbed and uncoordinated?” Harry asks, nose wrinkling as he tries not to grin at Louis who shakes his head. 

“Weren’t looking at me, so we’re all good.”

“Was this Ariel’s group?”

“Mhm.” Louis hums, threading his fingers between Harry’s, pulling him closer. He settles on his stool and spreads his thighs. That’s all the invitation Harry needs to settle between them. His free hand skating along the outside of Louis’ thigh.

God. He has no idea how he survived spending time with Louis without being allowed to touch him like this.

“How was your day?” Louis asks, his smile evident in his voice. He rolls his head, exposing a bit more of his neck, Harry studying the tendons as they strain.

“Started cold and empty and lonely, and cold.”

“Hmm, cold, you say? Sounds like you should gather some more comforters if you’re that cold. Maybe get your blood pressure checked? ‘Ve heard that can make you chilly. S’not normal.”

Harry nips at Louis’ earlobe, tugging it gently as payback. “You’re mean.”

“I know you saw my note because you’re here, you know.” He doesn’t try to stop Harry, letting him continue to press his teeth against the edge of his jaw. He’ll rub his lips raw on stubble if he keeps going, but he doesn’t really care.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry mutters, drunk off of Louis’ scent. He shakes his head, a weary sigh escaping.

“I even left you two notes, if you count the one on the mirror. And I know you got my texts.”

Harry seems to consider this, tipping his head from side to side. “Hm, no I don’t think that counts, that’s just for anyone who uses the ensuite.”

“Brat,” Louis says with no bite, hugging him tightly, it’s almost as good as morning snuggles, the way Louis’ jaw presses into the dip of his collarbone, breath warm against his skin when he speaks.

“Mmm, see this is the kind of snuggles I was after. Didn’t even give me a kiss goodbye.” He pouts dramatically, and Louis seems to struggle not to smile. 

“I did, right here,” Louis says, thumb rubbing against Harry’s temple. 

Harry sing songs, smile threatening to overtake his face. His chest is light. “If you keep the stubble you could just leave a mark with it next time.”

Louis seems to contemplate it. “Next time, huh.” He bites down on his lower lip, letting it pop out of his mouth. “Not sure how I feel about those early mornings, to be honest.”

His thumb sweeps over the peak of Harry's cheekbone. 

Harry clears his throat. “Should we like. Talk?”

Louis’ mouth twitches, he squeezes his legs tighter around Harry’s hips, reassuring. “Yeah.”

“So I want to ask you something--” His hands are heavy on Louis’ shoulders. He doesn’t want to worry him, using his thumb to stroke just under his open collar. “I guess. I just want to know why you changed your mind.”

Louis sucks his top lip into his mouth. “You’re so forward. I didn’t realize you were serious.”

“I thought I was pretty clear that I was serious.”

Louis chuckles, head dipping low against Harry’s shoulder. “That’s what I mean. It’s a bit hard to take at face value. That you’d actually want me.” 

Harry frowns, uneasily. “I do.”

Louis blinks, eyebrows twitching. “I know that now. I know you meant it, all those times. I just.” He thumbs at Harry’s cheeks, the spots where his dimples would be if he were smiling. Chest heaving with a deep breath. 

“I don’t mean in a bad way. But you get your mind set on something and then you do it and just. I couldn’t get swept up in that. I don’t want to be just… a footnote in someone else’s life. That dance teacher you were set on seducing and managed to… Great story for you, not so much for me.”

“That’s not what I was doing.” Harry’s frown is set, and although they’re good, now, he still feels his chest tighten at the thought that Louis really honestly thought he wasn’t sincere in his approach.

“I’m just not. Used to people being so earnest. Usually it’s a means to an end. But you’re just you, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t want to be made a fool, I suppose.”

“Well. There’s nothing wrong with being a fool.”

Louis furrows his brow, corner of his mouth twitching. “How so?”

“I’m a fool.”

Louis bats at Harry’s chest, as if Harry’s were insulting himself. “You’re not, stop it.”

“That’s not what I mean. It’s true.” Harry kisses Louis, sparks shooting up his spine as Louis chases his mouth when he pulls away. “I’m a fool for this mouth,” he says, thumb pressing against his lower lip. “For this jaw,” he continues, as he cradles it. He lets his hands drop and he slips it under the hem of Louis’ shirt. “This belly, these hips.” He noses at Louis' cheekbones. 

“That’s a lot of foolishness,” Louis says, breath hitching with each of Harry’s touches. His breath comes in pulses against Harry’s face, awakening him even more. Harry squeezes Louis’ hips, the soft flesh giving under his touch. 

“Mhm.” Louis’ open mouth meets Harry’s as they knock against each other, Harry’s arms circling Louis’ shoulders, practically trapping him. Louis doesn’t seem to mind. 

Louis’ back must hurt from how hard Harry’s pressing him against the counter, but he sighs happily when they kiss. His hands fisting the back of Harry’s shirt. 

Their mouths keep meeting, Harry sucking his lip, and then his tongue, as if he could absorb Louis somehow. 

So it goes. 

Somehow it’s easier to concentrate on their practice now that Harry knows he can touch Louis however he wants. When he misses a step, Louis just steadies him with a soft smile, and a reassuring squeeze. Sometimes he throws in a peck, but nothing open mouthed lest they risk getting carried away.

It only happened once before they learned their lesson.

Harry’s also less reluctant to swap Louis for Perrie when the time comes, because he knows he's not missing out on anything. Harry still gets to touch Louis, fingers circling his wrist whenever he wants, nuzzling behind Louis’ ear.

Louis stays and watches them a couple of times, adjusting minute details-- such as how far right Harry’s foot should turn, and if his hair should be tied up or down. Harry’s pretty sure these are all excuses to lay his hands on him. Not that he minds much. 

Louis tucks a strand away from Harry’s face, carefully adjusting his shirt. Perrie laughing in the background. “It’s essential for the aesthetics of the performance.”

Harry’s glad in those moments that he doesn't have to hold back, and can press a kiss against Louis’ temple sweetly.

Louis and Perrie decided they needed at least one dress rehearsal, just so an uninitiated party could look on and chime in. They roped in Niall for that role, and he was eager to help sine he wasn’t able to attend the performance. 

They’re set to meet at seven, but Harry knows Louis’ last class ends way before that, and he doesn’t want to spend more time apart than necessary. Their private time has whittled down to almost nothing with Louis’ own preparations intensifying and his insistence that Harry not be present while he rehearses. Harry’s too distracting, Louis claims, which is both a compliment and an insult. 

Harry makes it to Louis’ cabin just after Louis’ has gotten there, and he’s taken it upon himself to start prepping dinner-- chopping veg and browning meat for sauce, so that they can easily put it together once the others arrive. Louis, incapable of existing in silence, puts on some music and they barely make it through the browning of the beef before they’re swaying in the middle of the room. It’s not so much a dance as the two of them resting their weight on each other. 

They stay like that, murmuring quietly to each other, until a loud whistle breaks through the guitar solo filtering through the air. 

They don’t pull away from each other. Louis just raising their fists and leading Harry into a dramatic spin, culminating in a dip in front of Perrie and Niall. 

“I don’t want to know, do I?” Perrie asks, mouth turning down at the edges. 

“It’s like they’re possessed,” Niall says with a scoff. 

Harry turns to Louis only to find him grinning maniacally at Perry and Niall and he erupts into laughter. Louis shifts his focus to him then, digging his chin into his back, and pressing dry kisses against his shirt before letting him go. 

Perrie merely shakes her head. “I guess I should be grateful I’ve never had to deal with one of Louis’ conquests before.”

Harry can’t help it, he has to ask, “You haven’t?”

Louis squeezes his wrist. He doesn't let Perrie answer, saying, “He’s not a conquest.”

“Right, well. Mister Love-Of-Your-Life needs to come out here and twirl the living shit out of me so we can impress Irish here. Or else we might as well just go.”

Harry expects another protest for this moniker, but Louis just turns to him, face soft. “Think you can do that?” 

Louis’ cabin is sparsely furnished enough that they only had to push a couple of chairs aside, and Louis switches out the CD in the stereo, pulling Niall close to him

Louis and Niall step aside, and Harry takes Perrie into his arms. He waits for the familiar beats to start for his count to begin. Just before they start, Perrie grimaces at him and he does it in return, getting the silliness out of the way before they school their faces.

Harry doesn’t have to keep count out loud, each beat of the music corresponding to a move. He might not have performed the routine with Perrie much, but it’s so mechanic that it doesn’t even matter. He keeps the brackets of his arms firm, and lets Perrie orbit him on repeated spins. It’s not as fun as dancing with Louis; he has no reason to look for ways to graze Perrie’s waist, no urge to whisper anything in her ear while he pulls her back in. But still, they make it work. 

Even the lift works cleanly, his pulse not racing when Perrie moves towards him. Harry knows he can do it, and his hands easily cup her hips, her skirt falling low in front of his face as he turns around. 

They finish off with Niall whooping and hollering up a storm. He claps them both on the shoulders. “Coulda used a bit more passion, maybe finishing off with a kiss?” Niall suggests, and both Harry and Perrie shake their heads, both saying ‘No’ simultaneously. Louis looks like he wants to strangle him. 

“What? ‘M just saying, seems like part of a show.” Niall pats Louis on the back, which he doesn’t seem to be having at al. “Taught him well, you did.” 

Louis scoffs. “I’m the best and you know it.”

“Excuse?” Perrie pipes up from behind the fridge. She pulls out two bottles of beer. “Just for that I’m taking both of these. And also the wine.”

“Perrie obviously was a great influence as well.”

“Influence, right.” She snorts before heaving herself onto the counter. She plucks at the abandoned veg, biting into a sliced tomato.

“Great at providing incentive, too,” Harry says with a wink, squeezing Louis’ arse.

It catches Louis by surprise and he squeaks. Harry’s mouth drops open, silent laughter wracking over his body. Harry had no idea Louis could even make that sound like that, but he has to hear it again.

“I didn’t know that was a thing,” Harry says, trying to punch Louis’ bum, but he dodges Harry easily.

“You’re a dead man, Styles!” Louis slaps him on the arse before hiding behind Niall, crouching so that he can look over his shoulder.

Harry keeps laughing. He’ll get another chance to pay Louis back later.

“You guys are absolutely disgusting,” Niall says, not even trying to hide his grin.

Louis ignores the comment, so Harry does as well. Instead he asks, “How’s the talk with Gemma going?”

“You mean how do I feel having her pawned off on me? Great! She’s shaping up to be loads o’ help.” He ends his statement with a wink, half wrestling with Louis, trying to get him out from behind his back.

“You’re making her work?” Harry narrows his eyes at that, although it’s hard to keep his stern face on when Louis mounts Niall’s back and winks at him.

“She would’ve spoken up if she was offended.”

“Probably douse your head in lakewater, s’what she would’ve done.” Louis laughs from behind him.

Niall purses his lips with a nod. “She wanted to talk, ‘m not going to use my time off for this when she could just come along when I set things up.” He shifts under Louis’ weight.

“Oi! You saying Gemma’s not worth your free time?” Louis asks, pulling at Niall’s ear. Harry’s filled with warmth, and he tries hard to remain stonefaced at the sight of Niall buckling under Louis.

“Cut it, Louis!”

“Oh, he used my first name, he’s serious,” Louis mock-whispers in Harry’s direction. “‘F you think I’m getting off you, you’re dead wrong. Explain yourself.”

“Christ,” Niall huffs. He grabs onto Louis’ thighs, unsteadying him for a moment, Louis’ face falling. “You know technically. Technically what Harry’s doing is work too, you know.” He turns to Harry. “Has Louis offered you a stipend? An hourly wage?”

“I don’t need it,” Harry protests. 

“Right. But it’s still work.”

“Technically speaking, perhaps. But I volunteered. And I’m getting plenty out of it.” 

Niall shakes his head as Harry speaks, but he mouths his okay, now trying to hoist Louis properly on his back.

“If I find out you’ve been taking advantage…” Louis threatens.

“I think it’s my job to threaten him, Lou.”

“Oh, sorry. Go ahead.” Louis kicks at Niall’s thighs until he lets him go, and scrambles off. Fitting himself to Harry’s side.

“No need, Haz, I get it. I don’t think she bloody minds. Hasn’t been bothering you since she’s been hanging out with me, has she?” He certainly has a point about that. Harry'd expected to have to sneak around and duck her endless questions, but she'd hardly been around. He hadn't even noticed, too preoccupied on his own.

Perrie drumrolls on the counter loudly, making them all pause and pay attention to her.

“Thank you,” she says with a satisfied head tilt. “As entertaining as this cock fight is… ‘m starving. We actually putting this together or should I just leave you three to it?” She gestures at the half prepped meal with a raised brow.

Harry joins her and puts the water on boil, Louis sighing in defeat as he joins him by the hob. “Always a party pooper, that one,” he whispers against Harry’s neck.

“Oi, I heard you! Not too late for me to pull out, you know.”

Louis grimaces at Harry, says, “Looks like we need to make this the best spagbol of the universe to get her back on our good side.”

“Take care of the salad, will you,” Harry directs trying not to laugh. 

“Aye, aye, sir!” Louis salutes him, and “Help yourself to all the alcohol, Pez,” he calls out over his shoulder.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” She cracks both the beers open and cheers Louis with his knife and Harry with his wooden ladle. “S’my turn to play DJ now.”

“God help us all,” Louis mutters, before Harry covers his mouth with his palm.

“You’re going to get us into more trouble.” Louis licks his palm wetly until he lets go, wiping his hand off on his shirt. “Your dimples give you away, H, I know you’re on my side.” He pokes at Harry's cheek before pressing a chaste kiss just under his jaw.

Harry’s skin prickles pleasantly. He has no idea how things haven’t gotten tired yet. But they just haven’t.

“Never said otherwise.” 

Louis’ eyes glitter as he takes an obscene bite out of the unchopped cucumber. “Good.”

❋

Harry and Louis don’t spend the night together after the supper, since Louis has to get up early to catch his train and doesn’t want to wake Harry up. He's said it enough times that it seems he's trying to convince himself that it's a bad idea to stay.

“And I did say I wouldn’t be leaving you early in the morn’ anymore. Gotta live up to that promise.”

It’s all true, but that doesn’t mean Harry has to like it. Doesn't mean that he doesn't slip his fingers inside the waistband of Louis' shorts, only stopping when Louis grunts desperately and bucks away. His eyes shining in the dark as he backs away. Considering the throbbing in Harry's gut, it's definitely for the best. 

❋

Harry wakes up early even with Louis away. Their separation gives him time to grow nerves for his own performance. He hasn’t thought about it as an actual thing that would actually happen since the first time he saw Perrie and Louis do the routine. It’s been somewhat of an abstract concept until now, a reason for him to see Louis and pull him close and poke him in the ribs till he collapsed with laughter. 

But now… it’s actually going to happen. He’s going to get on stage with Perrie and perform a routine Louis and Perrie have perfected and spent endless nights performing and that Harry now has to pull off. Because he’s well aware that pulling it off is the most he can aspire to. There won’t be any firework after he exits the stage. Niall won’t be there to tease them and cheer them on. It’ll all be strangers, wanting to get what they paid for, and Harry has to deliver.

They’ve entrusted him with that responsibility. Harry has to be good enough that they don’t lose their standing gig.

He groans in bed, rolling over to his back so he can press the heel of his palms into his eye sockets. “Fuck.”

Louis is the only distraction he can think of. Harry knows his complete itinerary for the day, so depending on what time it is he can pinpoint what he would be doing right now.

He grabs for his phone only to find a slew of notifications from Louis, and his chest tightens.

_Trains rly boring_

_I take that back someones peeling an avocado??_

_They just put sugar on it and bit into it like an apple?????_

_They just put the seed in their pocket wtf_

_Or wait is it a seed or a stone_

_Do u think they have a garden of avocados_

_Why are people weird_

_Just got to penn st, goin off the grid break a leg babe xxx_

Harry can’t help the big smile that takes over his face. He’s about to respond to the texts when his phone buzzes again.

_surprise in the lube bin xxx_

A flush overcomes him, his face feeling hot, even as he frowns in confusion.

Ever since that first time Louis spent the night, Harry’d set aside his lube and condoms into a small shoebox in one of the bedside drawers, not wanting to make the trek to his holdall for condoms every time the opportunity arose. He didn’t know the likelihood of anyone checking anything, but he wasn’t about to just leave it out when Gemma and his parents wander into his room willy nilly. He scrambles towards the edge of the bed, leaning down to open the drawer. 

There’s a slip of paper at the very top. 

He precariously closes the box back up, pushes the drawer back in before falling back into bed with the paper between his fingers. He kicks at the sheets, trying to settle himself comfortably.

He unfolds the paper, revealing three lines and a drawn on lip imprint.

_Breathe in for luck, breathe in so deep_  
This air is blessed, you share with me  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

He thumbs it precariously, frowning. It’s obviously some sort of good luck wish, but it’s not one he’s familiar with at all. 

He can’t go back to sleep, so he gets up, quickly pulling on a sweater and his softest shorts. He still keeps the paper in his hand, not willing to part with it since it’s the closest to having Louis with him. 

Gemma’s the only one who wants to join him for breakfast, and they grab seats on the patio at a small table. She studies him carefully. “Don’t seem very nervous for someone who’s going to perform for the first time tonight.”

“You trying to make me nervous?” He asks around a bite of sausage.

“Just odd, is all.” She shrugs. 

She’s right, though. It’s hard to be nervous when his mind is occupied with Louis’ note. Gemma must’ve noticed it as she nods towards the paper in his hand.

“Love letter got you all atwitter?” She teases, swaying her coffee cup in front of her face before taking the tiniest sip. “Is it X rated or can I take a peak?”

He pushes it towards her, says, “s’just good luck wishes. A bit peculiar.”

She studies it, pursing her lips before flicking the note with her nail. “S’this your song then?”

“Hmm?” 

“This… the lyrics? Are they for your song? I’m guessing it’s not what you’re performing to.”

Harry frowns at that, taking the paper from her. “What song is it?”

“Some emo song I think.” She pushes her eggs around with her fork, before bringing them to her mouth. “You could’ve googled it, y’know.”

Gemma knows they don’t have wifi at the cabin, she’s certainly complained about it enough, but it’s not a point he’s eager to argue. He doesn’t even bother hiding his curiosity, bringing out his phone right away and googling the string of words. They don’t sound familiar, but it’s possible he just never noticed them as they danced, too focused on keeping in line and not letting his hands wander. 

He frowns at the results, says, “I’ve never heard this. Or I don’t think I have. Not with Louis, at least.”

“Hmm, curious,” Gemma comments. “Maybe it’s some secret message.”

She could be right. Maybe this was their song, according to Louis. But how could Harry not remember hearing it? It must be on one of the CDs that Louis had played…

“You’ve got that face on.”

“What face?”

“That, ‘I’m about to get into trouble face’,” she shakes her head as she speaks, not even trying to hide her amusement. 

“There’s no trouble I just have to find out why I haven’t heard this before.”

She watches him intently as she takes a long drink of her coffee. “And how do you plan on doing that,” she says, flatly. 

He huffs loudly, pushing his hair out of his face. Well. He tries to sound casual as he answers, “I’m going to look at Louis’ CD collection.”

Gemma sucks her cheeks into her mouth, biting down on them before looking away, her face a grimace. “Is he or is he not… in New York?”

“He is.”

“And you’re going to look at his CDs… how exactly?”

“I have a key to the studio. Hopefully it’s there.”

“You could just ask him, you know.”

Yes, of course he could. But how selfish would it be of him to text Louis now, as he’s probably just got done dropping off his things at his friend’s house and heading back to midtown for his audition. He doesn’t have time to answer questions about his CD collection. 

Besides, if it’s their song, Harry really should know about it. Louis finding out that he doesn’t, or has forgotten about it… well that could certainly throw him off-kilter, which is the last thing he wants. Alternatively… this could’ve been Louis’ plan all along. Mystery enough to keep Harry distracted and calm his nerves. His stomach pinches at the thought.

“I have a key. And it’s not like I’ve got much going on, anyway.”

“Except for the luncheon.” She points her fork in his direction. “Which none of us are allowed to miss.” 

He grabs her fork from her, stabbing at the fruits on her plate before stuffing his face. “I won’t miss it,” he says, mouth full, as he drops the fork back on her plate and gets up.

There’s hours to go until then, he’ll be fine.

❋

The studio is bustling when Harry gets there, a reminder that this is just a day like any other for everyone else. He's been such a presence at the studio over the summer that he recognizes most of the faces, and gets smiles and waves as he heads towards Louis' studio space. 

Multiple instructors have access to the room, but Louis is the only one who uses CDs, still, everyone else just docking their ipods into the speaker system. A loss of tradition, Louis scoffed when he told Harry. It certainly works in Harry's advantage now, as he knows whatever he finds will have Louis' fingerprints on it. 

The CDs aren’t out, stuffed back into the shelf that holds dance theory books that Harry can’t remember Louis ever showing him. Still, he plucks a CD off the stack and sits on the floor, legs flopped out in front of him.

They’re all Louis’ original mixes, his choppy handwriting littering the front and back of the cases. They’re each labeled with the dance style that they fit. Harry knows what song title and artist he’s looking for, but he sees neither on any of the CDs. It eases his mind a bit; at the very least it means they haven’t danced to it in class, and he can’t be expected to know it. And even more than that, the swoop in his gut insists, that Louis hasn't been dancing to it with anyone else.

There’s one empty case, scratched to hell and with jagged corners. The actual disc must still be in the stereo, so Harry presses the eject button.

He carefully plucks out the CD, fingers bracing along the sides. Louis’ messy scrawl covers almost the entire surface.

At the top, it reads: **Serendipity**. The first track listed is the song Louis quoted in his note, and Harry’s fingers tremble as he slots it back into the stereo. He can only assume that Louis meant for him to find it here, already loaded up so that he could listen to it in peace. 

There seems to be a recurring theme with each of the songs, and all it does is make Harry’s pulse race faster. He keeps the CD case in his hands as he listens, fingers tracing along Louis’ handwriting. He can barely believe it; Louis did this for him. Despite preparing for his own audition, working, and teaching Harry the routine… He still took the time to make this for him. 

_“[My heart is yours to fill or burst, to break or bury, or wear as jewellery, whichever you prefer--](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LlqkQRQSn40)”_

_“[Let me be the one who calls you baby all the time--](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kViQxH1v9v0)”_

_“[It's your heart that gives me this western feeling--](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CLPEVBHaRAA)”_  
  
Harry can feel his heartbeat in his throat, pulse thrumming wildly as each word just slots under his fingernails and sinks into his skin. It's there. Etched into the soundscape: exactly how Louis feels. Harry mind has gone blank; filled with nothing but white noise. His hearing is still clear as day, the words sluicing their way to the cotton lining his head. It doesn't matter that he's checked out intellectually. His pulse is racing and his his heart thuds heavily.  
  
_“[When we kiss it feels like a flying saucer landing--](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xwS77fWZ8_0)”_

_“[Your home is here, within my heart--](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q1PakYR1stU)”_

_“[You don't have a clue what it is like to be next to you. I'm here to tell you that it is good, that it is true.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O_m-5ij0WZ8)”_  
  
Harry turns the volume down, not wanting to risk passersby eavesdropping. It's too intimate to share with anyone else, even partially. He listens to the mix from start to finish at least five times, each song causing his pulse to crescendo. By the time he's done he's out of breath and feels like he's spent the whole time dancing rather than letting the music rattle inside his bones. His face is hot, and he doesn't want to let go of the CD, even though he knows he can't bring it to lunch with him. At least he still has the note. 

❋

Harry’s late to the luncheon, but it’s worth it. He doesn’t have time to change out of his shorts and sweater, but he can’t be arsed to care. He’s still on a high, lyrics echoing through his brain, head in the clouds. If there's a dress code of some sort he'll happily turn around and go right back to the studio, anyway.

He makes his way to the terrace of the main house, bustling with people. 

He’s handed a watermelon slushie as soon as his name is checked off the list and after thanking the server profusely he wanders carefully into the crowd.

There’s a large buffet and barbecue set up, with a grill master tending to burgers and chicken, and what looks like soy dogs. 

He spots Taylor talking to a group of middle aged men in linen suits. It looks like she's holding court. She notices him, of course, his floral sweatshirt a beacon among the sea of muted neutrals. She catches his eye and waves at him. His hands are free, he has to respond, so he waves curtly at her. She waves at him to join her but he shakes his head, trying to tamp down on his smile. 

Harry’s startled by a hand on his elbow, glancing behind him to find Gemma right against his back. 

“You doing okay there?” Gemma asks, and he nods with a slurp of his drink. “You seem a bit dazed.”

“‘M perfect.” The twitch of his mouth must give him away a bit, because she narrows her eyes at him suspiciously. She’s changed into a sundress that she saved for a special occasion, and she scrutinizes Harry’s sweatshirt and shorts. 

“We’ve scored a picnic table to ourselves so we’re taking turns grabbing food,” she says as she steers him towards the buffet. 

There are servers doling out the dishes from the buffet, and Harry ends up with a mound of salad and sauce, as well as a burger. Gemma opts for soy dogs, and slices of grilled pineapple. An odd combination if there ever was one. 

When they get to the picnic table they switch off with Anne and Robin, his mum squeezing Harry’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to his temple before getting up.

As soon as they’re out of earshot, Gemma’s suspicious gaze returns. He wants to beat her to the punch, so he asks, “Niall says he’s been putting you to work?”

She’s just bitten into a large chunk of pineapple, and frowns at him as she chews. He takes a bite of his own burger as he waits. He doesn’t want to talk about the reason to his lifted mood just yet, wants to savour it just for himself. 

“A bit of an exaggeration, that. Showing me the ropes, sure. And I’ve lent a hand here and there. But mostly it’s just been me quizzing him about stuff while he works.”

“So you don’t mind?”

A puzzled look briefly graces her face before she shakes her head. “No, not at all. S’pretty helpful actually, keeps him distracted enough that he gives me his unfiltered thoughts.”

“I don’t think he has much of a filter to begin with.”

“Well, still. Less than normal.” She leans over the table, stealing some of his salad, humming her approval before continuing, “Why?”

“Just… I don’t want you to feel like you’ve been pawned off…”

“Pawned off?” Her face starts to break, mouth twisting as laughter starts to bubble off. “What, instead of pestering you for details on your summer romance? And avoiding Mum and Robin’s romantic endeavors?” She shakes her head. “No, deffo not. This’s been great. Think I might get a bidding war going on the editorial even.”

“Really?”

She hums in response, pulling his plate closer so she can have more of his salad. In response, he tries to skewer a piece of pineapple before she blocks him with her fork. “Oi, get your own.”

“I did you a massive favour, you just said, and you won’t let me have a piece of pineapple?”

“All’s fair in love and food, Haz, you should know that,” she declares, pulling her own plate closer to herself. 

They scoot over to welcome back Anne and Robin, who luckily for Harry have a whole bowl of grilled pineapple and melon. Harry demonstrably skewers a stack of them onto his fork, and stares unblinking at Gemma as he stuffs each chunk into his mouth without chewing.

“Very mature, Harry,” Gemma comments, and he shrugs in response, flashing a wide, open mouthed smile showing off all the uneaten fruit.

“We’ve gone this far without accidents, please, let’s not have a choking incident on our last weekend,” Anne says, hand rubbing at the back of Harry’s shoulder. She must be able to tell that Harry wants to say something in response, as she adds, “I don’t care who started it.”

Robin’s chuckling quietly in his corner, which is really all that Harry can ask for.

They finish their meals and when Harry makes a move to gather their plates and put them away, a server swoops in and takes them off his hands, leaving him to sit back down. They’re followed by another server carrying a tray of drinks, gracefully placing one in front of each of them.

“We’re setting up for a game of croquet, in case anyone’s interested,” the server says, as he takes their empty glasses. Robin perks up. He turns to Anne who just wrinkles her nose. 

“Almost as good as golf,” he comments, and Anne wrinkles her nose, cheeks puffing. 

“It’s really not comparable, is it?” Anne squints at him skeptically. 

Robin doesn’t deflate one bit, turning a hopeful eye to Harry and Gemma. 

“I’ll play,” Gemma says, she takes a long drink from her glass before standing up and dusting off her skirt. “Shall we?”

“We’ll hold down the fort,” Anne says as Robin and Gemma bound off with a bounce in their step. 

“You’ve have a good time, haven’t you?” She asks Harry, eyebrows pinched as she fidgets with her stirrer. 

Harry's brow twitches at the unexpectedness of the question, but he tries not to let it show. “Of course, yes. What do you mean?”

“We were supposed to have a last hurrah as a family and we just splintered off completely. I don’t think we’ve been together all of us much at all.” She heaves a sigh, and Harry grabs her hand to still it, keeping them clasped on the table. “Christ knows what Gemma’s been up to. You… I think I can tell.”

She squeezes his hand, a small smile gracing her face. 

“Gemma’s been working on an assignment,” he says, trying to keep his expression neutral. He’s almost certain he’s flushed.

Anne perks up at that. “That's splendid. I was a bit concerned as to the two of you keeping busy. You seem happy though.”

“Mhm.” He presses his mouth against the rim of his glass, the cold drink chilling his lips.

“Dance classes going well, I suppose?” She presses. He shakes his head noncommittally. “You know if you’ve found your true calling on the dancefloor I would support you fully. Come to every bloody show.”

“Mum.” Now he’s definitely flushing, noses scrunched beyond his control.

“Even if it entailed dropping out of school and coming back to England with us. We’ll cover the plane ticket. I’m sure there’s some stellar dance schools we can enroll you in…”

“Mum, no. It’s not--” he pauses, trying to collect his words. “It’s not my calling. But I do actually have a performance tonight… that’s why I’ve been away so much. Trying to prepare.”

Her eyebrows rise in anticipation. As if she knows.

He licks his lips before continuing. “And I may have also. Maybe. Gotten myself a boyfriend.” The word makes his lips tingle as it comes out, but it feels right, and true. All things considered, he's pretty certain he's not speaking out of turn.

Her inhale is deep, and her mouth pinches at the side. “Harry Edward. I cannot believe you’re working so fast and keeping things from us. From me! Not how I raised you at all. You know mum loves a good story.”

“You didn’t introduce us to Robin until six months in.”

Her serious mum face is on as she reprimands, “Yes, well, I wanted it to be serious before he had the privilege of meeting you lot.”

“I could say the same,” he counters proudly. Although really, it’s more that they’ve barely had enough time to themselves, and Harry’s not keen on sharing.

She studies him carefully before shaking her head. “You know I was told having adult children would be a pain, what with independence and secrets--”

“Mum.”

“--never thought it’d actually happen to me though.”

“Mum! You can come to the performance, if you like--”

“Yes, of course I’d like,” she says with emphasis. He face softens, mouth twitching the way it does when she tries to hold back tears. “I’m a very proud mum, you know. Can’t deprive me of witnessing your accomplishments.”

“But Louis won’t be back until tomorrow. He’s in New York right now.”

“Is this a compromise? Offering this performance so that I’ll forget about your secret love life?”

He laughs, trying to stop himself. He rubs at his eye with his thumb. “It’s not a secret. I just didn’t know-- I didn’t know how serious it would be. And no, it’s not a trade off. Louis isn’t here today but I’ll make sure to introduce you when he comes back.”

They’re interrupted by the rap of knuckles against their table, and looking up they’re faced with Taylor. 

“Anne, Harry, so nice to see you both.”

She’s clasped her hands in front of her, leaning back proudly. Both Anne and Harry look at each other, eyes wide. 

Anne is the first to speak, “Yes, hello, Taylor.” 

Taylor seems to take it as an invitation to sit down, which has Anne squinting at Harry before she adds, “We were actually in the middle of something…”

Taylor smiles bright, ignoring her. “It seemed like the two of you could use some company. I feel like it's been impossible to have a quiet moment with this one here.” She nods towards Harry.

Anne’s eyebrows are raised, and and she tilts her head towards Harry, deferring to him.

Taylor looks nervous, and Harry thinks he knows what she wants… still though. “Was there something in particular you were curious about? Is there a survey we need to fill out?” he asks.

Taylor fake laughs and shakes her head. “Just making sure your stay has been good and there’s been no… _complaints._ Formal or not. And if there is if there’s anything we can do to rectify that before you leave.”

Ah, yes, of course. “Mum?”

“I’ve had a splendid time, I think my husband would agree.”

“Right, good,” Taylor says, eyes still flitting towards Harry. He has to work not to smile.

“And you, Harry?”

“I think things have been fairly good, yeah.”

“No complaints to file?” Taylor’s gripping at the hem of her skirt, fingers going pale.

Harry shakes his head. “No, nothing to report.” At that Taylor visibly relaxes, biting down on her lip.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, low enough that Harry’s pretty sure he’s the only one who hears it. 

Anne bites down on her top lip before shifting in her seat. She says nothing for a beat. “Was there anything else?” She finally asks, when Taylor doesn’t seem inclined to leave.

“I-- No.” She frowns, mouth turning down at the edges. 

“Nice seeing you,” Harry adds as Taylor walks away, looking behind her in disbelief. Anne covers her mouth with her hand, suppressing a snort of laughter. 

Anne shakes her head as Taylor walks away. “You’d think she’d have a better batting average if she focused on those who actually wanted to speak with her.”

“Mum.” Harry gapes. If he was still drinking he’d probably have spat it out. 

“What, she just said it was impossible to see you alone. Can’t be nice to feel like you’re intruding all the time. I’m sure there’s plenty of other people who’d enjoyed her company.”

Harry coughs into his fist. He would’ve paid quite a lot to hear his mum go off at Taylor like this, although it would’ve probably backfired. She grimaces before pinching her chin, asking, “Was that too much?”

“No that was...very appropriate, I think.”

“Some people truly have no sense of tact. We were having a moment,” Anne adds on a dour note. She adjusts the sunglasses on her head. “Don’t think I haven’t forgotten. So. Tell me more. About both the boyfriend and the performance.”

There’s nothing he wants to do more.

❋

Harry’s nerves only kick in when he’s backstage with Perrie at the Mendelsohn Estate. And even then, it’s not so much nerves for himself as for Louis. He’s nervous that he’ll fall flat on his face, yes, but moreso because it’ll make Louis look bad. Louis, who left him a love declaration in a mixtape. Who trusts him to fill his shoes for one night. How is Harry supposed to look him in the eye if he cocks up the dance?

“Babe, you’re making me nervous. Are you going to throw up?” Perrie asks, putting a calming hand on his knee. That he’s been jiggling without realizing. Fuck. 

“‘M fine.”

“Babe,” she reprimands. “You’re not fine.”

He rolls his neck, taking a deep breath. He shakes his shoulders out, straining his muscles against the tight dress shirt. He’s been checking his phone for updates from Louis, nothing so far. He’s probably back at his friend’s place now. Having just finished dinner and either celebrating his smashing audition or trying to drown the memory of it in liquor. Still. He's out there happy or sad or something in between and Harry doesn't know which and it's driving him mad.

He exhales shakily, clenching his jaw. He’d like to tug at his hair, but it’s been styled into a stiff quiff. He focuses on Perrie, meeting her gaze full on, trying to reassure her. “I’ll be fine.”

“S’it cause your family’s here? I know that’s a bit nerve-wracking but they’ll be happy to see you regardless, you know?”

It’s not quite that. Although his mum’s enthusiasm at watching him on stage gave him a slight tummy rumble, it was more the idea that they’d document it. Robin cleared out the memory on his phone, prepared to film the whole thing at Anne’s urging. 

He nods slowly, but bites down on his lips. 

“My family is out there. About to probably watch me fall on my face. And all I want is to make Louis proud.” 

Her face softens. “Aw, babe. You really do have it bad, don’t you?”

There’s no point in denying it, and well. A zip of excitement travels over his skin, prickling the tips of his fingers and ears and even his lips, thinking about Louis’ mixtape. He knows that it’s mutual. And that’s why Louis made sure he would find the mix today. It’s as good as saying that there’s no way he’ll be disappointed in Harry, and really, that’s all he could ask for.

Perrie continues, “Well. As long as you're the one who falls on his face it's fine,” she says patting his head and ruffling his hair, despite the shake off head.

He doesn't fall on his face.

Their routine is just under six minutes, and while he’s on stage he sees nothing but the lights illuminating Perrie’s face. He’s almost hypnotized by her eyelashes as she blinks at him, and the music awakens his muscle memory.

The lights beat hot against his face, and the floor is slippery; new shoes probably a poor call. Perrie’s hands are steady in his as he leads her across the stage. And yet when they step off the stage he doesn’t remember a single thing that happened. 

The show continues after they leave the stage, but neither of them want to stick around for much longer. They wait for Anne, Robin and Gemma in the car park. Harry’s still wired, and ends up pacing a pattern between the cars, trying to decipher which ones belong to guests, and which to performers. 

He can’t even think about just having been on stage. Perrie waves him over back to the rental, having spotted his family approaching. Harry’s out of breath when Anne wraps her arms around him, and he can feel the pride down to tips of his toes. He knows from Perrie’s grin that she’s proud of him too. 

It doesn’t hurt that Robin is delighted by the entire evening, having split a bottle of wine with Gemma, the two of them praise all the acts, but he keeps circling back to Harry and Perrie’s performance. Gemma is particularly impressed by Perrie's footwork in her four inch heels. Robin is the most taken by the lift. As everyone should be, in Harry's opinion.

“Imagine if we could’ve done that at the wedding! What showstopper that would’ve been,” Robin says, and Anne smiles fondly.

“There’s always the vow renewal ceremony,” Anne says with a warm smile and a pointed nod at Harry. “Surely you can teach us your moves in time for that.”

Perrie pats him on the chest and winks. “I think that instructor should be available.”

Anne grins wickedly before unlocking the car.

They all pile into the rental car, Harry feeling a bit awkward at being pressed up against Gemma and Perrie with his sweaty shirt and face. Of all the things to forget though, a change of clothes is probably the most harmless. 

“How are you not melting,” he asks Perrie, and she flips her ponytail over her shoulder.

“Setting spray, babe,” Perrie says with a wink. 

“I’ll have to get the brand on that one,” Gemma comments, and their conversation spirals while Harry’s gaze remains fixed outside the window. Despite not being able to remember what he did, his heart is still beating wildly in his chest.

❋

Harry’s still in a daze when he walks into his room, not sure how he’s supposed to go to sleep while his blood is still buzzing. He wanders into his ensuite, pulling off his shirt and hanging it up, unbuttoning his skinnies. He’s too tired for a full shower, quickly rinsing himself off under the spray of cool water, working the product out of his hair. 

He’s still shaking out his hair when he stumbles into his bedroom, movement in the bed catching his eye.

Louis. 

“Have you been here the whole time?” Harry asks, stupidly, his pulse ratcheting. Now that he’s paying attention, he can see Louis’ weekend bag at the foot of the bed. A shirt and trousers draped over it. 

“‘Bout an hour,” Louis answer and spreads his limbs lazily. His blinking is slow, tired and he yawns against the pillow. 

“You’re here,” Harry says, and his mouth twitches with a wide grin. Louis mirrors it, beckoning him into bed with an open hand.

“Yeah.”

“I thought you were gonna spend the night at your friend’s.”

Louis shrugs. “Thought you were gonna start locking your veranda?”

“Aren’t you happy I didn’t?” 

Louis stretches out in the bed, wriggling his toes. The sheets slips, revealing his naked chest. An hour. He’s been in Harry’s bed for an hour. It probably smells like him by now.

“Missed you.” Harry breathes as he knees onto the bed, collapsing onto Louis. He presses kisses all over his face.

“It’s only been a day.”

“Says the person who came all the way back here just to see me.”

Louis lifts one of his shoulders, a crooked smile on his face unfurling a ribbon of longing in Harry’s chest. He just wants to get closer, nearer, press against him, into him. Not let go, ever.

“Couldn’t wait to see you,” he says, fingers delicately pushing at Harry’s wet hair.

Harry wants to tease him so much more, but his mouth itches itches to taste him, so he does that instead, lips tender and lazy against Louis’. He tastes familiar. Warm and peachy and savoury all at once. His tongue slides against the roof of Louis’ mouth with a sigh.

“I missed you,” he says again, fully prepared for some ribbing.

“Missed you.”

“I found your mix.” Harry kisses the hollow of Louis’ throat, feeling his pulse pounding against his lips. 

“Yeah?”

“Is it… you mean it?” 

Louis nods vigorously, fingers gripping against Harry’s back. “You liked it?” He asks, a dopey smile spreading over his face. 

Harry nods and Louis’ hand grip his head, thumbs rubbing at his temples. 

“Are you sure?” Louis asks again, voice trembling slightly. 

“ _Lou_ , yes. I loved it. I’m-- you don’t understand. How much it means. How much _you_ mean.”

The crinkles around Louis’ eyes deepen as he throws himself back against the pillows dramatically. “Show me, then.”

Louis’ hand dips over his torso, tugging loosely at the sheet. Harry’s eyes follow the movement, hypnotized.

“Yeah?”

Louis bites the side of his lip, hand dipping below the sheet. From the way his eyes flutter shut, Harry can guess what he’s doing. 

“I want to be yours. If you’ll have me.”

“Yeah, yes,” Harry mumbles, and scrambles to the nightstand for the second time that day, pulling out his lube and condoms. 

“Tell me, Harry,” Louis pleads, and Harry inhales sharply at how wanton he sounds. 

Harry closes his eyes, unable to take in the sight and sound all at once. “You…” he starts, and he pulls at the sheet barely covering Louis. He’s already throbbing, but if he wasn’t, the sight would be enough.. “You’re stunning, allover.”

Harry manages to kick the sheets off the bed, and push himself closer to Louis. He cradles his face, says, “Here.” He moves his hand, pressing his palm over Louis’ chest. “Here.” He slides his hand down, meeting Louis’ own where he’s holding his cock. 

Harry unwinds Louis’ fingers, as is met by a whimper that he kisses away. He takes Louis’ cock in hand, thumb swiping the tip for precome, and squeezing him tight. “Here.” 

Louis’ thighs twitch, and with a nudge he spreads them. 

“You’re everything. Wouldn’t have-- never thought I’d find out,” Harry’s voice has gone husky and hoarse. 

“Show me,” Louis says,and tips his hips forward, bucking into Harry’s touch. 

Harry shimmies his way between Louis’ legs, he kneels, and lets Louis’ legs bracket his own. “Never thought I’d have this. You. Like this.”

He wets his fingers with lube, and doesn’t hesitate to press them against Louis’ rim, circling the sensitive skin, and Louis trembles below him. As he breaches his body, Louis’ breath hitches, taking on a staccato rhythm. It’s the only sound Harry wants to hear, ever, his own blood roaring through his veins.

“Like this?” Louis asks as Harry pumps his finger in and out. 

He shakes his head, but Louis isn’t looking his way, lips bitter and eyes screwed shut. “Babe,” he says, “Lou.” 

Louis’ eyes flutter open, just as Harry pushes another finger inside. “Like this,” he says, as he presses firmly against his spot, Louis spasming around him. “But not just that--” Leaning over he presses a spit slick kiss against Louis’ mouth. He pulls one of his hand against his own chest, hoping that Louis can feel his thundering heartbeat. “This. Like this.”

Louis gasps, palm pressing harder against Harry’s chest, and he can feel his heart racing impossibly faster. “Me too,” Louis mutters and blinks hazily. “Want you. So much. Every part of you.”

Both of his hands are on Harry’s chest, thumbs rubbing at his nipples, hard enough to make Harry gasp and lose momentum. 

Harry doesn’t want it to stop though, and the challenge in Louis’ eyes tells him he doesn’t want to stop either. “Can you focus?” Louis asks, chin tipping up as he grinds his arse against Harry’s fingers. “I can take more.”

“And here I thought I was taking care of you,” Harry says, withdrawing his fingers. He’s not doing a good enough job if Louis can tease him, still.

Harry’s distracted as he pours more lube onto his fingers, which is why he doesn’t see it coming, Louis’ foot planted against his chest, tipping him backward. He goes easily, and watches as Louis gets up, straddling him. 

“We take care of each other,” he says, determination in his voice. He grips Harry’s lubed fingers, and brings them to his hole, sinking down on them. “Team work,” he grits out. “Just.”

Harry licks his lips, in awe at the sight. He expects Louis to continue speaking, but he must’ve lost his train of thought as Harry resumes his pumping, crooking his fingers. Each movement eliciting a delicate gasp, Louis’ mouth open and slack. 

“Just like dancing?” Harry asks and even with just one eye open, Louis nods. The tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth. Cherry red and magnetizing. 

The muscles in Louis’ belly tense on a particular thrust and his chest shakes. “Stop.”

Harry pulls out his hand immediately, and Louis scrambles for the condom.

“Cock, now. _Now_.”

Louis’ hands are on Harry’s ribs, stroking over each indent as Harry scrambles to open the packet. He dips down so that he can catch Louis’ mouth with his and they stick like that, aimlessly kissing as Louis presses his hard cock against Harry’s stomach. “Harry… please…”

Harry nods, eagerly. Louis brings his arms loosely around his neck, head heavy, dropped against his shoulders.

Harry does his best to spread his legs, propping Louis above him. He presses the tip of his cock against Louis’ hole, and Louis twitches above him, a soft gasp pushing against Harry’s collarbone. 

Harry strokes his hips gently, all the urging Louis needs to push himself down, his hole swallowing up Harry’s cock in one go.

His breath is hot against Harry’s skin, and he’s gone slack all over, except his cock, wet as throbbing against Harry’s belly as Louis is jostled. “Haz,” he moans, clenching around him. “Can you…”

He doesn’t have to finish, Harry starting to thrust, hips jerking up easily. Each thrust bringing them closer together. 

Harry’s muscles burn with the strain, Louis’ full weight over him, and yet, all he needs to fuel himself are the soft whimpers Louis lets out.

“Lou… touch yourself, babe.” 

Louis head dips lower, sweaty forehead pressed against Harry’s shoulder as he brings one of his hands down, circling his cock. Knuckles pushing against Harry’s overheated skin with every stroke. 

Louis tongue lolls out of his mouth, and he licks at Harry’s skin with no purpose, as if all he needs is to taste something. His licks grow more frantic in stride with his strokes, and it doesn’t take much longer before Harry loses his rhythm, frantically fucking up into Louis, chasing relief.

“You’re the hottest, brightest, most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. Ever will see,” Louis mumbles against Harry’s neck, his voice raw. Harry’s not sure if he’s supposed to hear it, based on the way Louis’ teeth dig into his skin, as if he’d said nothing at all.

But it’s all it takes. That vulnerability, along Louis clenching rhythmically around him. His belly tightens, pleasure concentrating at the base of his cock before leaving him trembling, falling back against the bed. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis mutters, as he rides out the aftershock of Harry’s orgasm. 

Everything stills for a moment, Harry’s eyes locked with Louis’ as his face splits into a grin. The corner of his eyes crinkle and drops his head backward as his chest expands with a deep breath. 

“You’re absolutely mad,” Harry says. 

Louis gathers his bearings, and shifts so that Harry’s cock can slip out. He doesn’t leave or lay down; gently peeling off the condom from Harry’s spent cock, and licking him clean. Harry shudders under the touch, an almost wail erupting from his throat.

If Harry wasn’t absolutely beat he’d want to go again, immediately. 

Louis looks awfully pleased as he stumbles out of bed, limbs pliant. He carries the condom into the ensuite. Harry watches from the bed, incapable of moving. Watches as Louis wipes himself down, and then lowers his head to the faucet so he can drink.

Louis returns to bed, face dripping. His skin flushed, still swollen cock heavy between his legs. His face splits into a grin when he catches Harry’s eye, and Harry wants that image imprinted in his brain forever.

“C’mere,” he slurs, too tired to speak properly. 

Louis entwines his fingers with Harry’s as he joins him in bed again. Kissing each knuckle goodnight.

❋

The room smells like them. The air pleasant and warm. Harry stretches out happily, taking care not to disturb Louis where he’s plastered against Harry’s back.

“You’re still here.”

“It’s my day off.” Louis' breath tickles the back of Harry's shoulder before he drags his lips along Harry's skin. Harry shivers under the touch, holding his breath like a wish.

“You get days off?”

“I don’t know what Niall told you, but we are in fact _not_ indentured servants.” He wriggles his toes at Harry, even that slight of a touch sending shivers over his spine.

“And you spend it with me, I’m honoured.”

“Nowhere I’d rather be, babe,” Louis mutters wetly against the back of Harry's neck. Nose buried in his hair, he inhales deeply.

“How was the audition?” Harry stretches out and turns around so he can face Louis, smooshing his nose against his.

“How was the show?” Louis asks, smile bright and wide. Harry’s own face mirrors Louis’, they're so close that their lips touch when he speaks.

“I asked first.”

“Splendid, amazing, smashed it.” Louis is practically glowing in front of him, radiating warmth. The intensity with which he’s watching Harry almost hurts, but he can’t-- wouldn’t ever look away. 

“Good,” is all Harry can say, all other words escaping him. 

“And you?” Louis prods.

“Did you proud, I think.”

Louis brows furrow minutely. “And how do _you_ feel about it?”

Harry pushes his breath out through the sides of his mouth, lungs prickling. Aside from the immediate rush, he hadn’t thought about the performance in relation to himself. He remembers more now than immediately after. Snatches of moves coming back to him. 

He’d been good. Really good. Hips loose and limber, shoulders steady anchors for Perrie to navigate around.

“Did myself proud.”

Louis hugs him closer at that, nails scraping lightly against his flank. Awakening nerves Harry doesn’t even know he had. 

They breathe in silence for a beat, before Harry is reminded of something. He licks his lips, taking pleasure in the way Louis’ gaze flits to them. “So is that our song, then?”

Louis’ shuts his eyes, and Harry studies the way they move under his eyelids. “What song?” He asks as he squints them open.

Harry squints right back, and Louis’ face cracks.

He shakes his head, hair sticking up in the air defiantly. 

“No, no it’s not.”

“Why not?”

“It has to be something we’ve heard together, hasn’t it?” He purses his lips for a second before breaking out into a grin. He throws his head back briefly, face smug. “Should probably be _Tik Tok._ ”

“What? Why?”

“‘S the song we first danced to together.”

Harry frowns. “No, that was a Green Day song.”

Louis bites down on the side of his mouth, shaking his head. There’s still sleep in the corner of his eyes, a pillow imprint over his forehead. And still, he’s the most beautiful man Harry’s ever seen. He cocks his head before continuing, “That was our first lesson, not our first dance.”

Harry eyes widen in disbelief. “That is not the song that was playing.” He pushes Louis’ chest, and he flips onto his back, chest heaving with laughter.

“It was!”

“How do you even remember that?”

He pokes his tongue out of his mouth and bites down on it. “Cause it was with you. Was just as gone from the beginning, you know.”

“You weren’t.” Harry’s mouth twitches, chest featherlight. If he wasn’t holding on to Louis’ he’d probably float to the ceiling.

Louis nods. “I was, yeah. Bloody irresistible you were.”

“And you thought I was Niall’s date.”

“I was terrified you were. Would’ve been a real strain on our friendship, that.”

“Is that why you were surly?”

He looks like he’s about to protest for a second, but he shakes his head. “Reckon it was, yeah.”

Harry can’t help himself, plasters himself half on top of Louis, pressing close mouthed kisses under his jaw and over his neck. 

“And now you’ll never get rid of me.”

“Don’t want to,” he says, gripping Harry tight. Like he wants to make sure Harry knows he means it.

He knows. He really, really knows. 

He’s elated for a second, until reality settles back in. “Except for next week. And the week after that.”

Louis’ face scrunches up and he groans. “Why’d you have to leave so soon?”

“School.” His own face is contorted as well. “Why can’t you leave sooner?”

“Work.” 

They’ve gone over this before. And yet, every time, they’re as defeated. Louis continues, “It’s only two weeks. You’ll be settling into your place. Show your family around on your own. Have that proper bonding time without distraction.”

“What if I want distraction?” Harry asks, petulant.

“I think your mum wouldn’t want that. ‘Ve been plenty a distraction all summer.”

“Speaking of what Mum wants… she wants to meet you.” He traces a pattern on Louis’ chest, tickling the sparse dusting of hair. 

Louis sighs happily. “That can be arranged. It is my last day off.”

“You’d spend it with us?” Harry asks, and Louis pulls his hand to his face so he can kiss his thumb. Harry adds, “All of us?”

“I wanted to take you somewhere.” The corner of his mouth twitches. “Just us. But. It’s not too bad for a meet the family scenario, either.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks. The awe must be apparent in his voice, Louis features softening. 

“Yeah.”

❋

It takes less than the car ride to Peekamose for Anne to fall in love with Louis, and convince him that he should teach her and Robin the dance routine for their vow renewal next summer. 

The easy assumption she’s made that Louis would even be around then like a warm blanket around Harry. 

Robin gushes over Harry’s performance, and Louis preens at the praise, hands so tight around Harry’s shoulders. Harry wants to melt from the attention.

Gemma smirks silently, cocking her eyebrow every time she makes eye contact with him. 

“I expect only the best birthday and Christmas and Easter and Halloween presents going forward,” she whispers at him when they get out of the car.

“I’ll take your tote, sis,” Harry says in faux American accent, and she ducks her chin down. Pointing her fingers at him.

Robin and Anne take a quick dip, before getting back up and exploring the premises. Gemma scoffs at them, but it’s tender as she says, “Still bloody obvious. That’s where you get it from isn’t it, Haz?”

Harry gapes after her, and feigns splashing her before she squeals and paddles away.

“Can you believe that?”

Louis tries to tamp down his smile. “Yeah, I think I can. One of my favourite things about you.”

“How obvious I am?”

“How _you_ you are. No apologies or charades or filters or anything. So bloody open and straightforward I thought it was a trap.” Louis rolls his eyes at himself.

“Not a trap.” Harry ponders for a second before adding, “Well, in the sense that I’m never letting you go I guess it’s a trap of some sort.”

Louis laughs, and silences him with a kiss. “You know I was hoping I could get you here alone.” Louis pulls Harry deeper into the water, and he goes easily. The sound of Gemma splashing behind them growing more distant with each stroke.

“Why’s that?” He asks. The way Louis gnaws his lower lip should say it all, but Harry wants to hear it.

He wants to know what Louis had planned for this excursion, originally, before it became a family outing. Wants to know everything, always, that Louis might have to say.

Louis licks his lips, eyes darting towards Harry’s before having a sigh. “S’just got some really nice hidden nooks and crannies. For some indecent exposure.”

Harry’s mouth drops open, a sharp bark of laughter echoing out. “Yes, well. I do think that’s out of the question at the moment.”

Louis tips his head. 

“I appreciate your sacrifice…”

“There’s always next year,” Harry says, pressing himself firmly against Louis under the water, fingers digging into the tip of his trunks where no one can see.

He raises his eyebrows. “Next year? You plan on investing in a cabin again? Those go mighty fast, I’ll say. You should speak to James immediately.”

Harry shakes his head, and Louis tips his. Leaning forward he presses his nose against Harry’s.

“Yeah, figure I’ve proven my worth. I can also be a dance teacher.”

“Is that so?” Louis noses against Harry’s neck, a gentle bite against his earlobe making him shiver. It’s a bit risky with his family nearby, but Louis is so quick, expression innocent as he pulls away.

“I’ve got another forty or so weeks to prepare. You got my performance ready in just a few. I think I can handle it.”

Louis chest shakes with laughter, “I don’t think Pez will take kindly to being replaced.”

“Who said she’s the one being replaced?”

Louis gasps in his face, and pulls away, splashing cold water against Harry’s chest. He falls backward into the water, kicking his legs forcefully. Harry tries to grab onto him, “We’ll see about that, Harold.”

“We certainly will, Lewis.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Also, the full mixtape Louis made Harry exists, and can be listened to [right here](https://8tracks.com/sugardares/serendipity).


End file.
